Flight to Neverland: The Continuing Saga
by Nymph Du Pave
Summary: **Ending POSTED** Slash as well as hints of Het. Picks up about a week after 'PiM' ended. 'EPILOGUE: Pete' is up! End. Please, please tell me what you all think!
1. Prologue: Catching Up

TITLE: Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga {Sequel to _Poetry in Motion_}   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent, hints of a few others   
RATING: PG-13   
SUMMARY: It's been a little more than a week since the disaster at the Talon during Lana's 'Thursday Poetry Contest'.   
DISCLAIMER: The WB, DC Comics, MillarGoughInk, Tolin, Robbins, and Davola [along with whomever else] own this wonderful show. I am merely borrowing the characters to use in my own evil ways and will try to return them as mentally cognizant and stable as when I took them [with the exception of the incredibly handsome and elegant Michael Rosenbaum of whom I might never let go ;)], but I can't make any promises. The Muse controls these fingers.   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this has taken so long, but it won't take too long to post. I have [I think] all the pieces done here. I'm just going back, checking them over and over. There are more characters and more plot lines, etc and it's a little shorter than the first.   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   
FEEDBACK: PLEASE! I'm addicted to reviews and emails about my stuff [isn't every author] and since this is a sequel that many have asked about, I want to know how it lives up to any and/or all expectations.   
DEDICATION: This is to Sandra and those who have emailed me constantly asking for the sequel. Thank you for your patience, support and -- of course ;) -- the constant reminder. 

* * *

**Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga**   
**by Nymph Du Pave**

**Prologue**   
_Catching Up___

_Summer is not going to be anyone's friend_   
_For now we know there can be an end_   
_An end to what we held so dear_   
_Our precious friendships no longer clear___

_The definition has been erased_   
_A difficult one to embrace_   
_One that sweet blossoms could explain_   
_One made clearer in the summer rain___

_Where smiles burst and laughter roars_   
_That's when we'd sleep on the floors_   
_Our hidden castles were of the grove_   
_And our lake played like an ocean's cove___

_What once was has slipped away_   
_Into the fading light of day_   
_And where hands held there is now none_   
_Our fun and games are over and done___

_I miss the smiles, the brightest eyes_   
_and wish I could be mesmerized_   
_By the days again, before we did learn_   
_That everything must die and burn___

_Before I lost their hearts and time_   
_Before, when their hands were only mine_   
_Now it's empty, my friends have gone_   
_And have left me unable to move on___

_I still see the sun; forever it's shining_   
_And the leaves before, now they're dying_   
_I'll be here forever, my home for so long_   
_The summer, before it all went wrong._

The stupid poetry contest. She hadn't wanted anything to do with it. Nothing at all. And now here she was writing MORE stupid poems. 

"Argh…" she muttered and slammed her notebook shut. She tossed it back into her desk drawer, slamming that shut as well, unable to believe that she had, like some stupid, cliched teen, designated a book specifically for her poems. 

She looked up at the screen, at the item that had started the last poem. 

Chloe had made some stupid mistakes in her life -- among the worst were: dating a horny seventeen year old when she was only thirteen, telling her father that she would rather live with her mother, running away from Metropolis Middle (twice), running away from home (three times) and of course, trying pot -- but this topped them all. Looking up this one, single, tiny, _damnable _piece of information, _evidence_ if you will- 

And keeping it. That had been the biggy. 

She sat in front of her computer, sides of her personality warring against each other. Her heart was saying one thing and her brain was saying another. Heart was all for dumping it, loving Clark like the big brother teddy bear he was and just forgetting that the damned thing even existed. Brain was declaring that a good reporter would never let personal interests interfere. 

But she wasn't a reporter. Not technically. Not yet in the way that would justify keeping this kind of evidence. And Clark wasn't a danger. A roaming, hormonal curiosity with more holes in his life than in his favorite pair of worn and tattered work jeans, but still… He was her best friend. 

Really though, Brain was so much more whiny then Heart. 

She dragged the file to her trash been, right clicked and emptied the bin. 

She had deleted the file. 

It felt strange but… There was no regret. Not even in the slightest. And she felt as if a weight had been lifted. A huge weight. Like say, six foot four, 185 pounds with dark brown hair, tanned skin and amazing eyes… 

"Okay," she said to herself. "That's taken care of. Now. What about this?" 

The lavender paper with the printed poem declaring unrequited love sat on top of her keyboard, taunting her. Really there was this problem and then the one where she was going to have to explain what she thought had been the meteors influence with Clark, and then the whole thing with Pete. She wasn't sure that she could mend things on the last one until Clark paid their brokenhearted friend a little visit. 

She looked over at her journal -- JOURNAL! Not diary, Clark, thank you. JOURNAL -- and rolled her eyes. How many times? 

She put her head down on her folded arms and stared out the window at the houses down the street. How many damned times had she said 'Clark. Just tell him. He'll understand.'? How many times had she practically begged Clark to just go over to Pete's blurt out the fact that he was in love with Lex and then suggest a game of basketball before he had to get back home? 

"Clark's a big ole' scaredy-cat dummy." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"Chickenshit," he whispered. "That's all I am." 

He couldn't face Lex and he couldn't face Pete. He was still pissed at Chloe, but even more pissed at himself. It had been a week and two days since the poetry gathering and all he could think about was 'what if I'd just told Chloe and Pete the truth'. 

It had sort of worked for Buffy, but that was television and he didn't want his life and that of his friends to turn out like season five. No more angst. He would say that he didn't want to put his friends in anymore danger, but really, was that possible? 

Chloe went where Chloe wanted, and whether it was because it was off limits, somewhere she was told/asked/pleaded with not to go, somewhere new, or somewhere suspicious, it was always somewhere dangerous. And Pete… Well, Pete just seemed to find danger, which never really made sense to Clark. Pete was bright, sensible and calm. It always seemed to be an accident or coincidence. Wrong place wrong time. 

He wasn't sure what he was going to do about anything, least of all Lex, which should be the easiest. _'Lex, hey, how ya doin'. Remember the poem that I think made you run out of the Talon? Yeah? Well that was all about you, buddy. Love ya!'_

It should be so easy, so incredible simple. But he'd never declared love to anyone, and he wouldn't know what to do in a relationship. Seventeen years old and he'd never had a girlfriend. Kissed a few girls, Chloe included. Maybe two or three times. But he'd never had a girlfriend, would know where to start there, so how was he supposed to go along with a relationship with Lex? 

Really none of this actually mattered. He was just too much of a pussy to go and admit his feelings to Lex who was now sure he was 'beyond in love with' Lana Lang. 

He hurled the hoe in a downward arc too hard and it plunged into the earth. He winced and looked up at his father. Sure enough, Jonathan had stopped digging on his side and glanced up in curiosity. 

He looked down at Clark hole. "Uh, son, I don't think we're digging to China here." 

He nodded. "Sorry about that." 

Jonathan frowned. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong, Clark? Nothing you need to talk about?" 

"I'm sure," he said, a little tired of the question. He pulled the hoe from deep within the dirt and started packing the hole. 

There was a moment of silence that was too silent. He didn't even hear Jonathon working. 

He looked up to find a worried expression on the older man's face. "What is it, Dad?" 

"Well, its just this." Jonathon sighed and leaned slightly on his pitchfork. "You seem to have cut yourself off from the world. I was talking with your mother the other day and she hasn't seen any of your friends since that little gathering last Friday." 

"Thursday." 

"Right, right. Now, far be it for me to complain or contradict myself here, Clark… But we haven't even seen Lex and we're worried. We understand that you two were very close. Best friends even. Like Chloe and Pete."__

_They could never understand how close we were_, Clark thought, feeling even sorrier and even more pissed at himself. _They'd shun or hate me, wouldn't they?_ He almost rolled his eyes at his mellow-drama. _No, no. They'd still love me, but they'd wish that above all I could have been normal._

That realization stung, but he grinned. 

"What? What is it?" 

"Everything's okay, Dad. Lex is probably still in the city and Chloe and Pete are a couple now. They're probably going to be stuck to each other for long time. You know how new couples are." 

His father smiled and Jonathon's eyes seemed brighter, easier, more relaxed. 

So Clark was getting better and better at lying. He wasn't sure if that was good or just damned depressing. Maybe he had no one to really confide in. 

Lex. 

He needed something. 

"We just worry about you." 

Clark nodded. "I know. Thanks." 

To Clark's relief, they got back to work. Unfortunately, he couldn't stop thinking. He had to do something. Soon. Or else his chance with Lex would vanish, and he couldn't let that happen. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"The thrill is gone." 

Bit of the guitar, not as heavy-handed as the first time and the slide actually sounded good, like it was supposed to. A little amateur, but he could fix that with practice. 

"The thrill is gone." 

His voice was rustically intoned. Those were Pamela's words. 'Rustically intoned'. Meaning if he learned how control his grate and the slight twang -- he wasn't sure _where_ the hell that came from -- he could actually sound fairly decent. As it was he was alright. You could listen to him, but he wasn't going to be winning any Grammys. 

"The thrill, baby, is gone." 

He could buy a few maybe, but where was the fun in that? 

"The thrill is gone." 

Okay, he had to stop this damned song. He reached out and flipped a few pages in his songbook to the next number. _Mr. Bojangles_. Too complicated. Next. _I'm a Fool to Want You_. 

"Um… No. Definitely not."__

_Since I Fell For You_.__

_I Loves You, Porgy.___

_Ne Me Quitte Pas___

_Crazy_. 

None were titles that he wanted to play, and yet a part of him wanted to indulge in the agony and the suffering that he was going through. His father would have gotten evil. His mother would have done something creative and productive to rid herself of the feeling of worthlessness. Lex decided that he liked his mother's way of dealing with stress and disappointment better than his fathers. So he told himself that every time he was about to partake in vengeance, stupidity or illegality, he would grab his guitar, calm the hell down and find a legal alternative.__

_Come Rain or Come Shine.___

_Could that really be classified as blues?_ he wondered. The song itself was too happy. It was about living with someone throughout the thick and the thin. It was about how it would be great to have that loved one, even if everything else around them was in shambles. 

"Day may be cloudy or sunny," Lex mumbled. "We're either in or we're out of the money. I'm with you always." He paused thinking about the way he hadn't spoken to Clark -- or anyone really -- in over a week. "I'm with you rain or shine." 

He hadn't been the best friend that he could have been to the only person that ever cared to share the time of the day with him, much less give it to him with a broad smile and bright eyes. Clark was the only thing that Lex felt influenced him in the same direction that Lillian did. But how could he glance at Clark even once more without the pain completely taking him over? Lana Lang was all of Smallville's fantasy and that was fine -- until Clark was included in the bundle of admirers. 

He hadn't really understood the true depth of Clark's feelings for Lana until he'd heard the poem. It was then that he realized that he could no longer dream and when all that is good in a man's life falls to pieces he is hard-pressed to find another good. But he refused to become his father. He knew that someday, some way, there would be a way around his pain. 

So he could forget ever being with Clark. That's what his poem was about, right? There hadn't actually been any hope inside of him that once Clark heard his words, the boy would realize that Lex was talking about him, discover true but hidden feelings, and then fall on the ground at Lex's feet with love. 

Was there? 

Lex knew which song to move to next. He'd never actually played this one before, but he'd heard his mother work it a million times over and it wasn't until a few years after her death when Lex understood why. He'd started playing the guitar as a tribute to his mother, something to connect her spirit with his, something to keep her influence in his life alive, and Sam Loomis, their butler, had brought down some of her old music books, insisting that Lex keep them hidden from his father for fear of them being thrown out. It was then that Lex also realized the effect that Lillian had on everyone, not just he and Pam. 

The moment he'd opened the book that day, it was to the page that held the song _I'm a Fool to Want You_, and as he read the lyrics he began to understand his mother's connection with the song. 

"I'm a fool to want you," he started. "I'm a fool to want you. To want a love that can't be true. A love that's there for others, too." 

He never went to Metropolis. That was just the cover story for anyone that called. 

"I'm a fool to hold you. Such a fool to hold you. To seek a kiss not mine alone. To share a kiss the Devil has known." 

_Lana_, he thought instantly. His Devil. 

Loomis had tried to convince him to talk to Clark when he called, but he just wasn't ready. So he was in Metropolis. He'd always told Clark before every visit to the city and when he 'got back' he was going to have to explain why this time it was different. 

"Time and time again, I said I'd leave you. Time and time again, I went away." 

He could just say that it was and emergency and that he couldn't get to a phone. Sorry, Clark. Couldn't make time. 

"And then would come the time when I would need you. And once again these words I'd have to say." 

He was amazed at how accurate the song was to his mother's relationship with Lionel. 

"Take me back, I love you. Pity me, I need you. I know it's wrong, it must be wrong, but right or wrong, I can't go on without you." 

They thought there were things he didn't know, they thought he was a less nosey boy than he was. 

"Mmmm. I'm a fool to want you." 

But he heard their fights. He noticed when he and his mother took extended vacations where they would come back and his mother would act strangely sad, but relieved. 

"You hurt me time and time again." 

He knew his father was never faithful. Not after Julian. Not for long, anyway. 

"But I still love you, baby." 

He thought about Clark. 

"I still need you." 

He'd get over him soon. He had to. His sanity was in the tender balance. He needed the boy's friendship, needed it like an anchor to the real world, the world of the living and the breathing. The world opposite his father. 

"I'm a fool." 

He would do anything for Clark. He could do this. He could get over him and just enjoy the company. Clark and Lillian would help him do what was right. 

He could do it. 

"I'm your fool." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"Such an idiot. God!" Pete was down by the lake, the only place he could think really. He couldn't be at home. It was over-run. He loved his mother and father, and his brothers and sisters, but right now the eight of them were too much. And now his aunt and uncle were coming down from the city to spend a week. They'd be arriving in an hour, maybe two, and then after they left he had three days to get used to normalcy until his grandparents -- both sides -- came down. 

His mother would have been pissed that he would no longer be staying with Clark, so Pete lied. He said that he was staying both there and with George Pullman. Georgie and he hadn't spoke in more than two years. Not out of distaste but out of distance. They'd just grown apart. 

Instead of staying either place however, he was going to be sleeping in the tree-fort that he and Clark built years ago at Crater Lake. It was just the place that he needed to think about… things.__

_Like Chloe._

He winced and his stomach tightened. He loved her, really and truly. He wanted her to be his and only his. And the way he treated her the other day was wrong. But… 

At the same time that he wanted her, he wanted _nothing to do_ with her. Her lies and her easy deceptions. Her suspicious and cunning mind that he'd always admired. 

_your hair, so bright_   
_eyes like light_   
_everything was unassuming___

_and then like death_   
_you steal my breath_   
_with another stupid lie___

_your casualties are_   
_well, they've gone too far_   
_you've hurt another that you love___

_and now good-byes_   
_are worth no cries_   
_I cannot see your heart_

He knew it was overly dramatic but, damnit, that's how he felt. He felt betrayed and lost. The one thing in the world that seemed so steadfast had been crumbling into tiny pieces since he'd found the adoption papers on Chloe's computer. 

He'd always trusted her, even over Clark ever since he started hanging out with Lex. He'd believed with his gut that Chloe could never hurt either of her 'boys' as Martha Kent referred to it. 

Then he'd happened upon the adoption records looking up information on Kwan to post in a 'During the Summer' paper that the school was funding. There was summer school and school activities so Chloe figured why not still have the paper and the new principal was all and ready to say yes. 

Chloe had then explained why she kept them. _ 'I've been telling you for the longest time, Pete. You let things slip away when it comes to Clark. He's a mystery.'___

And of course, as Chloe had said, he'd let it slip away. He didn't believe in prying into the very, very private areas of his friends lives. That's why he hadn't confronted Clark on his feelings for Lex. 

But when Clark read the poem and Chloe had been so obviously anxious for the response… It cut him. How could Chloe know? How could Clark possibly trust her more than him, Pete, _his best friend since forever_. Since BEFORE Chloe. Suspicious, sneaky, lying her. It just wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Pete was as damned honest as a person could be and here was Clark falling for Lex-fucking-Luthor and telling everything to Clandestine Chlo. It just pissed him off. 

So he'd, in his anger, broken a secret from a best friend. First time in his life he'd ever done that. Broken her trust. It felt awful but at the same time, he was sure that he could never trust her again. How she could keep such a major thing from Clark and then turn around acting like Clark's only fucking confidant? 

He still loved her, though. Kinda wondered if he would ever be able to stop. It hurt so unbelievably much.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To be continued...**


	2. Chapter One: Ripped Apart

TITLE: Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga {Sequel to _Poetry in Motion_}   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent, hints of a few others   
RATING: PG-13   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am currently working on the ending to _Independent Love Song_. Considering that it is NC-17, I will obviously not be able to post on FF.net. When I do have the next part posted on my website, I will put a note on my author page as well as in anything else that I post here [at FF.net] around the same time. I will have the link to it. Thank you to all of you who have written and asked how to get the next two parts, plus all that have written to me suggesting places for me to post. I appreciate all of the support.   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   
FEEDBACK: Thank you [again] all for your reviews and emails on the prologue. I was flattered at how many of you were excited to see this story continued. Thank you, and please keep reviewing! And, yes **Michelle45_, _**I've probably spent way too much time imagining the hidden side of Lex Luthor, but I don't care what anyone says; I think he'd look damn good with a guitar. Lol. 

* * *

**Chapter One**   
_Ripped Apart_

He knew that Lex wasn't in Metropolis. He knew the older boy was lying. But short of going over there, breaking into his house and hunting the young Luthor down, he really had no way to prove it. And even if he did, what would he do about it? Even if he had a way to prove it, what would it matter? Lex wouldn't talk to him until Lex was ready. 

"Alright, Mister Clark?" 

He wasn't even going to get into the 'mister' business again. 

"No, Sam. No. Okay. I mean… I know he's there. I know he's mad at me for some reason. I did something stupid, or…" 

_I hurt him, maybe. I hurt him and he thinks I love someone else when all I want is to finally be able to kiss him._

"Or something. Please, just put him on the phone, okay? Tell him I threatened to come over there? Alright? Tell him that I threatened to hurt someone. You. You." 

"Mister-" 

"Tell him that I threatened to hurt you, or bomb the palace, or whatever." 

"The palace, sir?" 

"Just put him on the phone." 

"I would, sir," continued the old man. "-but Master Lex is simply _not here_." 

The old man sounded sad for Clark but also like he was growing slightly impatient. Clark had never seen Sam impatient -- not even with a very, very drunk Lex stumbling through the halls on Clark's shoulders singing showtunes -- and he wondered what it would take to get him there, on the edge. 

Sort of where Clark had been days ago. He was beyond tired of the disappearing act. 

"Fine," he said gruffly. "Then give me a reason why he's not answering his cell." 

"It was an emergency, young man, and I know that Master Lex is very busy at the moment. Now if you don't mind-" 

"Then give me a number where I can reach him." 

"You're very persistent, but I'm afraid-" 

"I want to know what I did wrong!" he shouted, and his mother looked up from her vacuuming. He looked away and lowered his voice. "Just tell me, okay?" 

There was a moment of silence. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Mister Clark, but I can assure you-" 

"I miss him," Clark said softly, his eyes watering up a little. He was thankful that no one was around to see him and hoped that neither of his parents came around to see what the shout was for. His father was supposed to be working in the fields but… 

"He's a friend," he continued. "And I know he's upset with me and I just need to talk to him. Please." 

Another, longer silence this time and there was a knock on his door. 

"I'll see to it that Master Lex gets your message." 

So Sam was going to tell Lex. He sighed in relief, thanked Loomis profusely, then hung up. 

"Was that the door, Clark?" his mother shouted over the vacuum. 

"Yeah." 

"Could you get it? I'm a little busy here!" 

"Sure." 

He jogged over to the front door and opened it. 

Chloe. 

He stood there for a moment and frowned. 

She looked worried. "What's wrong?" 

"What?" 

"Your eyes. They're all teary." 

"Ammonia," he lied. 

She nodded and looked around awkwardly for a minute, most likely expecting to be invited in. He had no intentions of doing so. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest, leaned up against the doorjamb, and tried to ignore the hurt in his best friend's eyes. 

_Ex-best friend_, he reminded himself, even though the moment she came to him in need -- if she ever did again -- he would be there for her. He would still drop everything in the world to be her protector again. He remembered the moment that he pulled her from the fire in the Torch's old headquarters. Her in his arms. She was so small, so fragile. 

His heart constricted at the thought of how close he came to losing her. That couldn't happen again. He would keep her safe. He still loved her. That would never stop. You didn't get to know someone like Chloe and not love her, even through her stupidities. 

_Damn it_, he thought. He was already ready to forgive her. _Not so fast. Make her earn it_. 

Chloe looked up at him and it was obvious from the look in her eyes that she understood her place. 

"How are things going with you and Lex?" 

"What do you care?" he snapped. Immediately, he felt awful. He'd never treated her like this before. 

_Yes, but then again, it's not everyday that you discover that one of your best friends is keeping something from you. Something they promised to get rid of. Something very personal that could destroy your life and harm your parents._

Her eyes were watery and if he didn't watch himself, he was going to invite her in for milk and cookies. 

"I'm sorry, Clark, really, I…" She took a deep breath and pulled a purple piece of paper out of her jacket pocket. She looked at it as she spoke. "I know you need time, Clark. Time to even begin to be ready to forgive me for what I did." 

_Not as much as you'd think._

"I had my reasons. Stupid and selfish reasons that make absolutely no sense now that I'm standing with you. Not now." She looked at him and a tear spilled from one eye. "Please, call me whenever you need me to apologize, to explain myself or anything." She held out the folded paper. "I'd do anything to make you my friend again. I'd do anything to prove to you and Pete that I'm trustworthy." 

He took the note and she started down the steps towards her car. Just as she reached for the driver's side door, Clark decided that he couldn't leave things as they were. 

"Chloe!" 

She spun around and looked up at him hopefully. 

"I… I mean, you're not…" He struggled for the words. "I don't hate you, you know. It's not like you're not my friend still. I'm just mad." 

Her grin lit up his heart and unknotted her stomach a little. "Thank you, Clark." 

He nodded and watched as she climbed into her little Echo and drove away. He opened the note just long enough to see that it was in poem form. Then his father called him. 

"Clark! Tractor's going whacko again! Get out here quick and help me, okay!" 

"Coming, Dad!" He shoved the note in his pocket and took off as fast as he could. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"He was insisting that you weren't in Metropolis." 

Lex waded in the deep end of his pool, stopped from doing his laps by Sam's calm threat to throw the radio in if he didn't stop and pay attention. 

"And?" 

"Master Lex, he insists that you're angry with him because he's done something wrong." 

"Ridiculous." Lex started to swim towards the shallow end. Done something wrong? Fell in love with an empty porcelain face, maybe. With dark, cascading hair and heaving bosoms. 

"Then, sir, may I ask: exactly why the pouting? And the refusal to see anyone? The week and a half off from work?" 

"I had to teach Gabe how to deal without me," he said, climbing out of the pool. "I'm available for questions, but if he wants to be full-time manager of the plant when we sell it off to the Hardwicks he's going to have to learn." 

Lex was particularly proud of that. His father thought he'd screwed Lex over with him owner the bank and any major buyers. But there was one person always willing to screw a Luthor, and Lex was loaning some of his left-over inheritance along with his own personal savings to Victoria so that she -- still somewhat wanting to get away from her father -- could buy out the plant. Getting his money back, plus a percentage of the profits for the next five years was going to be sweet. And he knew the vixen was good for the money if nothing else. 

"I'm going to be moving on," Lex finished. "Gabe can't call me after that, so he needs to learn now." 

"So one excuse is semi-valid. And the others?" 

He sighed and grabbed a towel, wiping his face off first. None of the other help spoke to him this way. 

He grinned. None of the other help got paid nearly as much as Sam, and none of them had been with Lex through thick and thin either. "The others?" 

Sam sighed. "Young mister Kent sounded… devastated." 

Lex's grin faltered and his heart stuttered. What right did Clark have to be devastated? He wasn't the one that had his heart chewed up into a million pieces and spit out with disgust. He wasn't the one in love with a clueless, mindless zombie. A zombie in love with the princess stuck in a tower, the one so beautiful from a distance and so perfectly blank from up close. 

He was just a little boy who couldn't have what he wanted. 

_Now who are you talking about?_

"I've grown quite fond of Mister Clark-" 

"I'm sure you have," said Lex, tying the towel around his waist. 

"And though I know it's not nearly as fond as you are of him-" 

Lex turned around quickly and glared at Sam. "It's not like that with Clark." 

"Whatever you say, Master Lex." Sam was headed out of the poolroom. "The point is, I prefer to see him in the best disposition possible. I dislike seeing him- either of you troubled." 

"It's not what you think, Sam," started Lex, but the old man just walked out of the room without looking back. "Damn it, Loomis! I love him!" 

He watched for a moment, fearing that Sam would not believe him, would not come back. That the he would believe Lex just wanted to use Clark, to screw him insane behind some barn or in one of his random, fast cars. 

And then Sam was back. "I guessed as much, sir." He spoke softly but firmly. "And my presumption is that what the young man is feeling for you isn't far from what you're feeling for him." 

Lex snorted derisively. "I'd say your usually sterling keen perceptions were off. He's written a epic poem to his loved one." 

Sam nodded. "I was there as were you." 

Lex was startled. "What?" 

Sam smiled and shrugged. "I was curious as to the contents of my young master's composition." 

"Ah. Well, that was trashed." 

Sam just nodded. 

Lex felt it necessary to explain himself a bit further. Loomis knew him better than most, and Lex loved the old man. There was something that made him family to Lex; family that mattered. Real family. Like Lillian, Pamela and, at a distance, Clark. Sam and he had been through so much… 

"I wouldn't touch him, Sam," he said, his voice breaking. "Not until it was legal. Not until it was his decision." 

"I understand that, sir. Love is a very different entity than lust. It's an existence within itself. An unwitting undertaking of the heart. I think an old man of my experience can tell the difference, Lex, and I think an old man like myself can spot it." 

There was knowing in that voice, such assurance, that Lex almost wanted to believe him. But he couldn't tear his newly mended heart apart again. Not so soon after it had just taken a steep fall. Not ever again. He was going to get over Clark, and nothing was going to stop him. 

"I'm sorry, Sam, but you're mistaken."   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To be continued...**


	3. Chapter Two: More to Deal With

TITLE: Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga {Sequel to _Poetry in Motion_}   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent, hints of a few others   
RATING: PG-13   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   
FEEDBACK: Please! I dream of it, hunger for it, crave it all my waking hours (I'm only a little obsessed, really))!! 

* * *

**Chapter Two**   
_More to Deal With_

Clark wasn't able to get to the note until after dinner, and really it was just luck that he even remembered it. 

Dinner came and went with strange looks from his parents. He was sure that when he had been taking his shower, they'd discussed his shouting over the phone. So now his father was back to worrying. Only now they probably knew he'd lied to them. 

He'd gone up the stairs to his bedroom after washing the dishes, tired and uninterested in doing anything really. He usually went straight out to the barn to think about Lex, or more recently his face in Lex's hardening lap. Even sweeter, his fingers on Lex's lips in the wee early hours of the morning. He was just too tired now. 

He'd changed, tossing his cleaner clothes onto the dresser and moved into the bed before he remembered Chloe's visit and, subsequently, the poem. 

He got up and moved to the hamper, the summer night's breeze from the open window tickling his bare back. He found the discarded pair of mud covered jeans; after the tractor had gone bonkers on his father, the two of them had been splashed continuously. Martha had refused to let either one of them into the house until they had cleaned off best they could. Then he'd changed before dinner. 

He dug into the left back pocket and brought out the miraculously clean piece of paper and walked back to his bed. He slipped beneath the covers before opening the page. 

By Your Side   
_by Alexander J. Luthor_

Lex's full name hit him like a semi. It was sexy and surreal and he never really saw it; it was like a part of Lex that he knew existed but he got to see the real Lex. The Lex behind the name. 

Then he was struck by how utterly stupid he had been. 

_Of course the **lavender **paper would be from Lex_, he thought. He'd never known Chloe to type or print on colored paper. 

Then the facts hit him: this was Lex's poem. From Thursday. It was titled 'By Your Side' and- 

And Chloe had given it to him. 

Many questions suddenly fired off in his brain -- most prominent was how Chloe of all people had laid her hands on this particular piece of personal property -- but he struggled to quiet them and, after a moment, began to read. 

_When the darkness reigns supreme,_   
_and no one's taking numbers,_   
_I'll be there to guard your back._   
_I'll be the one to take your side._

_In my dreams we're together_   
_holding limbs in a light mist_   
_Everyone around us will pale_   
_in comparison to the strength_

_that we hold in our hearts_   
_that we hold in our minds_   
_that we have for each other_   
_Tell me my dreams can be real._

_No one could find_   
_more devoted lovers_   
_domination from the underlords_   
_couldn't tear us apart_

_You, my angel, stand silently_   
_keeping vigil over us_   
_head bowed in light prayer_   
_on and on you protect what we cherish most_

_When the darkness reigns supreme,_   
_and no one's taking numbers,_   
_I'll be there to guard your back._   
_I'll be the one to take your side._

_Archangel of my dreams_   
_Cherub that keeps me here_   
_Awake me from the nightmare_   
_Reach out and pull me in_

_I know the color of your eyes_   
_So bright and tangible_   
_I see myself, my other me_   
_inside your emerald protection_

_In my life the lightning flashes_   
_and the horrible thunder screams_   
_I can't see you there_   
_but I feel your saintly presence_

_You're the sun when it pours_   
_and sane when it's rough_   
_I've lost all faith in ideals_   
_But you bring back such hope_

_Walking the streets at night_   
_Alone, under a cloak of normal_   
_I cry all over again_   
_The sound of my feet the only solace_

_The answers to my questions_   
_you'll never be able to answer_   
_when you look my way, love_   
_ignore the stains of my tears_

_When the darkness reigns supreme,_   
_and no one's taking numbers,_   
_I'll be there to guard your back._   
_I'll be the one to take your side._

_But you've got your own heart to follow_   
_your own soul to express_   
_find your other half, my love_   
_I'll salute your deserved delight_

_Alone in a world that seems so weary_   
_it's tired of my survival here_   
_no funny valentine by my side_   
_just a lonely heart with no tears to cry_

_When the darkness reigns supreme,_   
_and no one's taking numbers,_   
_I'll always guard your back._   
_I'll always take your side._

Clark was up and out the door before he realized what he was doing. Halfway to Lex's he realized that he was going to have to explain to his parents where he went and why. Then he was at Lex's. The gate was open and a van carrying a late night delivery of flowers was coming in. 

Clark remembered that when the Tornado passed just outside of Smallville, the terrible winds and rain ruined the delicate flowers all around the Luthor estate. Since there was only a handful of gardeners and a lot of work, it was going to take awhile. 

Clark jogged up to the front door at a normal human pace, ignoring the urge to speed up. He rang the doorbell and stood there, waiting. And waiting. 

And waiting. 

He tried the door but it was locked. So he rang the bell a second time and didn't take his finger off. 

A minute later Loomis was glaring at him from the other side of the door. 

"Mister Kent, I dare say that was incredibly rude. What if we had had guests?" 

"There's only one guest I'm interested in." Clark shoved the lavender piece of paper at the butler. 

Sam looked down at the paper. "I've told you, Clark, I don't know how many times, that Master Lex is not present." 

Clark looked at him slyly. "And if he was but told you to tell anyone asking for him that he was in Metropolis." 

Sam pursed his lips a moment before continuing. "Then, of course, I would be obligated to do so." 

Clark nodded. "Just give this to him. Okay? I know he's in there somewhere. Just tell him that I found this and think it should be back with him." 

Sam frowned, this time out of curiosity, and took the paper. He placed it into his pocket. "I will place this on Master Lex's desk so that when he gets back-" 

"Right," Clark interrupted and ran back towards the gate. He was sure that Loomis didn't really _want_ to lie to him, but the fact that he wasn't letting up even a bit about the fact that Lex was there was bothering Clark. He could have sworn the man liked Clark. Lex had told him so a few times and Clark was sure he could read a person. 

Outside the gate he paused to look back at the house. There was no odd sensation that Lex was watching and he often got that when leaving the castle. Was Lex really in the city? He quickly scanned the front of the house. Bits and pieces were full of lead, but he could see that the study, the library and the entertainment rooms were all empty. 

He jogged far enough away that he was sure that no one was around and then got home. To his surprise he didn't have to answer questions from either parent except whether it was nice out and did Martha's begonias look like they were growing. 

_Odd_, he thought. _Very odd._

+_+_+_+_+ 

She'd never felt so bad that her songs didn't help. Remy Zero's _Perfect Memory _was an amazing song filled with such nostalgia and love that it always brought her hope and happiness. Even through the sadness of the song, it was a gorgeous tune. 

If that didn't work there was always Zero's _Shattered_. That was her favorite from any album of any artist. She was sure that would never change. So romantic and loving… God it was beautiful. 

When Remy Zero couldn't help her mood there were few alternatives. Oleander's _Halo_. Coal's _Stay_. A few of Pink's latest songs like _Just Like a Pill _and _Don't Let Me Get Me_, but she'd never admit it. Another one she'd die before admitting to was Britney Spears' _Lucky_. Dido's _Here With Me_ had helped her get over Clark, strangely enough. 

Last but not least was her emergency song, the song she only listened to when down. Jimmy Eat World's _The Middle_. If that song couldn't help, nothing could. 

The acoustic version of _I Walk Alone _was Pete's big upper. That and Good Charlotte's _Seasons_. Sometimes _Movies _by Alien Antfarm. Clark preferred Fuel's _Bad Day _or _Gramayre _by Remy Zero. She knew he had this thing for _Save Me_ as well and figured that really fit him. It was really like the epitome of him. It seemed to be everyone's song. The whole mismatched group's and they were all singing to someone. Someone that she really hoped would one day listen. 

Chloe remembered Lana saying that Semisonic's _Closing Time _perked her up. She also remembered Lana playing Chantal Kreviazuk's remake of _Leaving on a Jet Plane_ a lot at the Talon. Then there were various Save Ferris songs, and Reel Big Fish, and Sarah McLachlan. 

Chloe couldn't help but wonder what songs Lex liked to listen to when he was sad. 

The thought of Lex brought her back to Clark and back to his words from earlier that day. She stared out her open window and into the night. 

**_~"I don't hate you, you know. It's not like you're not my friend still. I'm just mad."~_**

Mad she could deal with. Hate, she could not. She was so afraid that she'd finally done it. Broken Clark's usually impenetrable temper. 

"The last straw," she whispered and wiped her eyes on her pink bell sleeves. She'd discovered since the dress that pink wasn't such a stupid, sucky girl color. Not hot pink, anyway. 

She sighed and watched the stars. She was going to have to tell Clark everything. Everything that she hadn't had the nerve to even tell Pete. 

Yes, she knew that Clark had super-duper boy-man speed and super-duper lift-a-car kinda strength. She didn't doubt that there were probably some other physical mutations from being exposed as a baby to the meteors. But there was something else he was hiding, something else he was keeping a secret. Who were his real parents? 

She couldn't help but wonder just why things seemed to be opposite for Clark when it came to the meteors. His strengths were a plus and his personality? Always in the green. With the 'Meteor Mutants' they turned violent, troubled and sometimes, even evil. They had no conscience and… And the meteors seemed to _give_ them their strength. 

It wasn't until Pete explained what had happened with Clark and Amy at the exploding greenhouse that Chloe had begun to put things together. Albeit slower than she would have liked, but still, she was getting it. 

And now she understood even better. 

Meteor = sickness. Lana's necklace = distance. 

_That_ was the reason that he could never approach her before. 

Chloe had recently caught herself watching _Species _the other day on FX. And then _K-Pax _had been on HBO. Thought to herself, what if aliens really existed and could look like humans? What if… What if Clark was one of them? 

She'd laughed at herself before but now, sitting up at two-thirty in the morning, she could grasp that form of reality. It was in the way that you only could at such a late hour, when everything seems possible and nothing seems absurd. It was like your mind was more open and willing to accept ideas. Like the magic hours extended past midnight and if you could stay up your mind would reach new levels of consciousness and understanding. 

_Then you wake up the next day and wonder what the hell you were thinking_. But she always felt refreshed. She would laugh at herself, but it was like she needed the late night/early morning portion of her brain to be activated in order to be okay with everything and wake up with a newer perkier perspective. 

She wasn't sure that this late night venture into 'Chloe's World: The Alter Psyche' was going to do anything but make her world more weird. At least for the next couple of days. Even weeks. There was no telling when everything was going to calm down. Clark and Pete and Lex and her… It was all just a ragged mess. She had to do something. 

If only Clark realized that he could trust them with the truth. Everyone's lives could be so much easier now. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"What?" he asked. His mouth felt thick and fuzzy and he wasn't sure where he was for a moment. His eyes felt plastered shut. 

"Sir, I'm sorry to wake you, but there's a young lady to see you." 

"No, Sam. No more Vicky. She makes me sick. Just, you know, just… tell her I'm dead or something." 

"Um, Master Lex?" He could hear the humor in Sam's voice and flipped over in the bed. "It's not Miss Hardwick." 

"Not Vicky?" 

"No, sir. I believe it's one of Mister Kent's friends. She was sitting at the table with you last Thursday?" 

"Lana?" What the hell was she doing here? 

"No, sir. Not Miss Lang. The blonde." 

"Chloe?" That was an even bigger surprise, but certainly a more welcome one. 

"If you say so, sir. She looks to be having a rough night." 

"But I'm not supposed to even be here." 

"I'm sorry, sir. But I've done enough heartbreaking by now. The tears are more than I could handle." 

"Tears?" That wasn't like Chloe at all. 

"Mr. Kent dropping by today was more than enough for my fragile will." 

Lex rubbed his eyes. "Clark came by?" 

"You'd already gone to sleep, sir. He came by at around nine-thirty. I was surprised to find you in bed. He brought me something to give to you. Said it was yours. That it should be-" Sam paused for a moment thinking and Lex looked up at him. "'Back with you' I believe were his words, sir." 

He got out of his bed and threw his robe on over his pajamas. What could Clark possibly be returning? What had he given Clark in the past few months? 

_The saber_, he thought. It was the one thing that Clark had outright excepted. Lex didn't want the damn thing back. 

"Let's deal with one thing at a time, shall we? Chloe, Chloe," he muttered to himself. "I don't understand what she's doing here though. A rough night?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"And tears." An image of Clark came to his mind. Clark tied up on the post. In the middle of the field. 

It seemed so long ago, but his stomach was already knotting from the tension he'd felt when he saw the boy. It had been fate, he knew it. He was there when Clark needed a savior just as Clark had been there for him. He wasn't sure why Clark had looked as rough as he had, but… 

Clark could be in trouble. 

Clark could be dying. 

Clark could need him again. 

He raced out of his bedroom, through the carpeted hall and down the marble staircase, taking the wide steps two and three at a time without even thinking of peril to his own body. He reached the door and tore it open only to find no one there. 

_What the hell?_

"Lex?" The quiet voice was weak and not at all like Chloe. Like the tears. 

_Oh, God._

He turned around to find the girl standing dressed in jeans, a bright pink top and a worn jean jacket that was too big for her. He was sure he'd seen Gabe wearing the same jacket around town. She was fidgeting with her car keys. 

"Chloe." He closed the front door and walked towards her. Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair was limp around her face, absent of the usual hairsprayed-flippy do. There was no lip-gloss, no jewelry and… She was wearing slippers. Blue ones with glittery moons and an stars. "What's the emergency?" 

She bit her lip and looked down at the floor, shaking her head. "There's no actual emergency, I just- Well, I didn't have…" She sighed and looked up at him. He could see her eyes watering. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Luthor. I've made a mistake. I'm just… Impulse decision, you know?" Her tears started to fall. 

_What the hell?_

"I'm sorry." She walked towards the door. "I've gotta get home." 

He beat her to the entrance and stood in front of it, blocking her exit. "Okay," he said trying to sort everything out. Was the clock on the mantle in the living room right? Was it really four in the morning? Anything that Chloe came here to say or do… That had to be important right? It wasn't like Clark's on-a-whim drop-ins. She'd never done this, before. And she didn't smell drunk. 

"First of all, it's Lex," he finally continued, and that got a small smile. She was what sixteen? Seventeen? Something like that. She'd never seemed her real age before. Never seemed so fragile. 

"Second, I know all about impulse decisions. Are you sober?" 

She nodded. 

"Then you're way ahead of me. I never made impulse decisions on a free-from-intoxication mind." 

"But-" 

"This is one of the smallest 'big mistakes' you could make, Chloe. You're here. I'm up. So let's hear it." 

"You're not mad?" 

He smiled. "Why should I be? A friend of mine is feeling sad and, for some reason, deemed me worthy to turn to. I'm at your disposal, Miss Sullivan." 

Her lip trembled. "You consider me a-a friend?" 

He hated seeing her like this and wondered just why she wasn't with Clark or even Pete. They were a couple now, right? Wasn't it his job to take care of her? 

"Of course. Any friend of Clark's is a friend of mine." 

Her face crumpled up and her grip on the keys in her hand tighten. "Oh, God." 

He stepped forward, now beyond utterly confused, and did the only thing he could think to do. He held her close, his hands running small circles around her back. 

"Everything's gone to hell since the poetry contest and-" 

"The poetry contest?" he asked. He hoped that, as close as she was, she couldn't hear the sudden increased beat of his heart. 

"Yeah. You left right before it went up in flames. I'm surprised that Lana hosted another one after last week." 

"What happened?" 

"A mess of things. Now Clark's mad at me and Pete's mad at both of us and my dad's been spending so much extra time at the plant that I can't get a moment in with him. He tells me it wont always be like this-" 

"He's telling the truth," interjected Lex, unable to help but feel like shit. It was his own fault that in her moment of need she was unable to turn to her father. 

"I know, but I won't need him when it's over and you stop pretending to be in Metropolis." 

He stopped rubbing her back. "Does _no one_ believe I'm there?" 

"I just needed someone to talk to and…" 

"And I was the last resource." 

She pulled away. "I'm sorry to make it seem that way. I don't want to make you feel like I couldn't get anything better." 

He gave her a humored smile. "But that's the way it is, right?" He shook his head before she responded and wiped tears from her cheek. "Don't worry. Some of the best friendships are based on rock bottom life situations and last resorts." 

She smiled. 

"Now, that's more like it." 

"You're not offended?" 

He shook his head. "Of course not. Now," he put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her gently towards the living room. "Come with me and let's see if I can't be a good substitute confidant."   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To be continued...**


	4. Chapter Three: Gained and Lost

TITLE: Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga {Sequel to _Poetry in Motion_}   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent, hints of a few others   
RATING: PG-13   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   
FEEDBACK: Please, tell me what you think; I'm only a little crazy without input. 

* * *

****

**Chapter Three**   
_Gained and Lost_

Lex woke instantly and looked up. It was morning. The sun shined through the curtains in slivers and Sam stood above him with one eyebrow raised. 

"What?" he asked. Sam looked down and he followed suit. Chloe was stretched out on the couch with him. Her head was in his lap. "Oh." 

"Yes, sir. This is Miss Chloe Sullivan?" 

"Yeah. She was having a bad night." 

Sam nodded. "I remember. Her father is on the phone now." 

That was a surprise. "She left a note?" 

"Pardon?" 

"How does Gabe know she's here?" 

"He doesn't sir. He's calling in to tell you he can't go to work today. He has to go out to look for his daughter." 

Lex looked down at Chloe, finally looking at peace. "Oh." 

"Yes." 

"Oops." 

"He said that he's called all her friends and her friends' parents. They're all saying that they haven't seen her." 

"Why's he so worried though?" asked Lex, trying to move Chloe without waking her up. "She's usually a little, well, up-and-at-em." 

"Because she usually eats breakfast with him and she's not there." 

He scooted out from under her and stood. "Alright, you wake her up and I'll go explain to Gabe that she's here." 

"May I make a suggestion, sir?" 

"Yeah." 

"Let Miss Sullivan do the explaining. I'm sure her father would rather talk to her than you." 

Lex thought about that for a moment. "Right. Well, you wake her up. I have to pee." 

He made his way to and from the bathroom in under three minutes. On his way to find Sam he passed Chloe who was trying to explain to her father that she was fine and, yes, Lex is a friend. 

Chloe actually hadn't told him much at all last night, skimping on the details, which had made it hard for him to help. She kept insisting that everything was a mess and that she wasn't sure things would ever be the same between her and Clark. 

He gave her arm a squeeze of encouragement and went to find Sam. 

Lex had reassured her that, if anything, Clark was one of the most forgiving souls there was and that, above all, Clark was a great friend. She'd looked at him funny then and his gut had tightened. It was like she could see his love for Clark, like she knew he dreamt about the farmboy, wanted to touch him, wanted to start all over again and not love him but knew it was impossible. Like she could see that Clark was all Lex Luthor ever truly wanted and, therefore, was the one thing he would never really have. 

Then she had closed her eyes and curled into him, saying that maybe he was right. She'd fallen asleep against him. It felt good, he'd decided then, to be needed. To be liked as a friend and entrusted by someone other than Clark. To have the kind of platonic touching and embracing that other people had with friends and family. He hoped that this was not a once in a lifetime deal. He liked Chloe, honestly and openly, and would cherish any friendship that the two of them could have together. 

He found Sam in the kitchen getting his breakfast from Jackson Fairway, the assistant cook. 

"Thanks, Sam." 

"Absolutely, sir." It still amazed Lex, who had known Sam for all his twenty-one years, that the man was never improper, never less than regal, and was as American as the most patriotic redneck in the south. "Oh, and before I forget, Master Lex." He put his breakfast down and reached inside his suit. "This is what Mister Clark brought around yesterday." 

It was a purple piece of paper. Folded. 

Lavender really, he thought, his throat constricting with emotion. Oh, no, no, no. 

Sam frowned. "Sir, is something the matter? You're paler than usual." 

_Smart ass._

"No, of course not." He snatched the paper from Loomis and cursed himself for discarding it in a public place. He wasn't sure how Clark had come across it, but God, it was all his fault. 

_Damn it. How stupid could you be?_

"I gotta get going," came Chloe's voice from behind. He tucked the poem under his tee and into his sweatpants, ignoring a strange look from Sam. He turned around tying his crimson robe tight around his waist. 

"Let me walk you out." He gave her a calm, confident smile that didn't penetrate any deeper than his lips. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"Pete has decided to get well and truly drunk," he muttered then giggled. "Not just plastered, but unable-to-move drunk." 

He tried to stand up to climb down from the tree house to get the rest of the alcohol. The world swayed and he fell down on his ass, hard. He giggled again. "Too late." 

Since Thursday, it had taken him about a week to realize that he had absolutely no one. Not necessarily to talk to about more recent development, but just to hang out with. To talk with about anything. He'd become so solely connected with Chloe and Clark that, really, he had stopped hanging out with anyone else. He was even an outcast in the sports he played. His teammates respected him as a player, but it never went any further than that. 

He plopped back down onto his back and tried to block out all the thoughts that were coming into his weary brain. Because he was drunk, his defenses were down and he couldn't help it. 

Blonde hair, pearly whites and a brilliant, heart-stopping smile. He could not stop himself from smiling. She'd always managed to brighten his day with the hugs, the witty comments, the fun adventures and obsessive editorials. He'd been in love with her the moment he saw her. She'd come into school late in the first semester and had nervously wandered into his third period AS math. She looked around the room and while most people just stared or gave weak, disinterested smiles when they were anything but, Pete gave a wide grin and an enthusiastic nod, thinking he'd found another girl to chase in his spare time. 

Then she grinned back at him. 

Pete stared up that the sunlight, filtered through the branches and peeking through the cracks in the wood above him. Things had never been the same. Since her next two classes were his, he'd flirted with her the rest of the day, then introduced her to Clark on the bus home. It was when he saw her eyes light up and her cheeks flush when he realized that his best friend was the one that the girl he was failing for wanted. 

That had really sucked. 

And to be the second guy, the friend to turn to, the guy that took the place of a best girl friend… That blew too. It was like she'd never considered him a possibility. He sometimes wished that there was some way that he could have kept her to himself, kept her a secret from Clark. 

He knew everything about Chloe. Her favorite clothes, her favorite bands and articles. What actors and writers she adored. He knew what she looked like making her first snow angel at eleven, what she looked like helping the Kents in the field at thirteen, what she looked like in her first bikini. He knew what her eyes looked like while she was standing in front of an open night sky, and what her tipsiest giggles sounded like. 

He loved her. 

And now, he didn't want to. 

So many years of loving her, of wanting her, of dreaming about her and wishing that he could have her for the rest of his life and now… Now it was gone. Not the love, but the want for the love. She wasn't the same person that he thought she was. She'd changed and he should have admitted it to himself the moment he saw Clark's adoption records on her computer. She was becoming something that he feared he could not love. 

But how does a person go five years wanting one single thing and then find out that everything has changed? Suddenly what you thought would be the best, most amazing thing in the world was not going to happen. The world had changed. 

He damned himself for never taking the chance. At least then Chloe would have known how he felt. Maybe then she would have looked at him as an option instead of everything being Clark, Clark, Clark. 

And wasn't that what happened with Justin? All he really did was show a keen interest in Chloe. Couldn't that have worked for Pete? And to think, he wasn't even psychotic. 

They had kissed. He hadn't forgotten. It came back into his mind, soft and warm and so very Chloe. How long had he wondered what kind of mess they'd make together? Right then his questions had been answered and for roughly half an hour, she was his. She was for him and him only. He could see them together like they were before, only this was more than just friendship. Now they kissed and loved and even fondled a tiny bit. They would soon be making out under the tables of the Torch's headquarters. They would be getting hot and heavy on his couch, on hers. They'd make love on a night that her father had to work, in her bed, in her backyard, in her shower, in her kitchen. Anywhere he could please her and anywhere he would take her. They were meant to be. They were meant to cuddle and lie in bed late at night reading. 

How was he supposed to get over that? 

"How do I get over it?" He laughed harshly and, even drunk out of his mind, didn't like the sound. "Drink yourself stupid. That's what I'll do."   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To be continued...**


	5. Chapter Four: Confrontation

TITLE: Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga {Sequel to _Poetry in Motion_}   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent, hints of a few others   
RATING: PG-13   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   
FEEDBACK: PLEASE! R&R! This chapter was fun to write, kinda. 

* * *

**Chapter Four**   
_Confrontation_

"CHUG, CHUG, CHUG, CHUG!!!" 

The crowd erupted with cheers and hollers as Whitney chugged down the last few gulps of the huge soda. 

Clark just watched and shook his head. He could always tell just how Lana's relationship was going with the quarterback, because if they were in an off period, he showed up in all sorts of bizarre places. 

Like here, in the Beanery for 'The CHUG-A-LUG Contest'. The Beanery had started selling Chug-a-Lugs as opposed to Lana's Chug-a-Tons for the theater aspect of the Talon. He'd been wanted to go see the Bond movies playing on the Talon's Sunday Matinee. First was 'Moonraker' and he had skipped out on that, but not for the typical reasons a true Bond fanatic would. He and Lex had watched it on the big screen at the castle and MST3K'd it. It had been so much fun and they had laughed so hard that he knew for sure he would never again be able to watch it without thinking of the jokes they had made. Right now, with Lex not even talking to him, he didn't think he could handle it. 

After 'Moonraker' was 'The Living Daylights' and, his favorite Dalton Bond flick, 'License to Kill'. 

Clark wondered if Chloe was still typing away on her laptop in the Talon. He wasn't sure why he was avoiding her. She'd apologized and clearly felt horrible. She'd even handed over Lex's poem as a peace offering and Clark was itching to find out just how his resourceful friend got her little hands on that. 

But still, he couldn't believe she'd lied to him. And not about something simple. This wasn't 'Hey, I fell asleep and forgot to call you' when the truth was she got wrapped up in an article and didn't want to pry herself away. This wasn't 'I'm not feeling too good. Can we postpone the hang-out until a later date' when the truth was there was a bunch of soft-core on the Cinemax free weekend Saturday. This was about him. This was deeply personal and something that would be permanently etched into the fabric of their friendship. He had no clue how long it would take to be able to trust her again, wasn't even sure that that day would ever come. He loved Chloe and wanted like hell to forget this but he couldn't. 

Alongside his anger and wounded heart was the guilt he was feeling. She and Pete were his best friends. He would do anything for them… except tell them the truth.   
He really hated himself for that. They deserved to know what he was and he knew that he could tell them. He'd promised his parents that he wouldn't, but it was getting to the point where, not only Chloe and Pete were suspicious of him, but to the point where he had to say or do something. He had to tell them. He didn't feel like himself hiding this information from them. He couldn't blame Chloe for being curious, or finding something on him. He couldn't blame her for coming up with her own theory. He just hated it that she lied to him. 

Over the noise of the teens, over the clatter of the kitchen and the smells of the food and beverages two things hit him almost simultaneously: the bell on the door of the Beanery and then a subtle smell, leather and cinnamon and that part of the smell, the creamy part, that he missed the most. 

Leather; his dreams had him and his lover clad in it, making love in and on it, surrounded by it. 

Cinnamon; there was nothing like the faint smell of it mixed with Lex's pale skin -- together an addictive and, surely, a lethal mixture. 

The Creamy part; something he'd never been able to identify, something that wasn't always there, but when it was there it was all he could do not to wrench Lex to a private area of wherever they were, force him against a wall and lick every single centimeter of the milky body. 

Clark didn't turn around. He couldn't. He fought every muscle, every bone and every desire in his body. He would not look at Lex. 

He could tell when Lex looked at him, however. His stomach tightened, he became hot and flushed, and his erection was sudden and hard. 

_I can't see you there_   
_but I feel your saintly presence_

It made him sad and weak that he could not turn to meet the eyes of his best friend, or watch that lithe body move across the room. His eyes would show so much heat, so much lust. 

_when you look my way, love_   
_ignore the stains of my tears_

He wasn't crying, but tears weren't the only things that gave away what a person was feeling. This was all up to Lex. 

If the older boy left without a word, Clark would have to rush out there and demand that Lex tell him what was wrong. Maybe he'd even have to profess his love. At that realization, his stomach lurched. 

_Please, don't let him leave._

Clark wasn't sure that he could have even done it, necessary or not. What did he expect fate to do? It had given him every confidence, every opportunity and every assurance. And still he was chickenshit. 

If Lex came over, said hello, approached him at all, it was going to be all he could do not to explain right away that, you know, really the poem was not about Lana. It was about someone else, hint hint. No one that I go to school with, hint hint. Some one very rich that lives in a castle all by **_him_**self and is the heir to many, many millions of dollars. Probably billions in industry, but none of that had ever or would ever matter. 

HINT, HINT, HINT!!!! 

Lex would probably think Clark was in love with Bruce Wayne. 

God, what he wouldn't give to be in a room, alone with Lex. They could finally have it out, everything their looks secretly promised each other. Lips, bodies, hands and more. If it weren't for Lex's damned stupid idea that Clark wanted nothing more than Lana, Lana and more Lana. 

An image shot to his head and he wasn't even sure where it came from. 

Clark was standing in an apartment that he'd never seen, never been in before. The walls, carpet and furniture were all black and the window -- the sliding glass door leading to a patio -- showed an unobstructed view of a city, one that Clark could easily identify as Metropolis. 

That wasn't the main focus of the image however. Lex was on his knees in front of a naked, tied, standing up Clark. His lips were swollen and what from, Clark could only guess. He licked the length of Clark, and in reality Clark felt a jerk in his pants. 

_Good, Christ._

"You want this, Clark?" 

In his image/hallucination/dream/died-and-gone-to-heaven trance he nodded. 

"You have to beg, farmboy." 

He was not sure just where he got this image but whoa. His whole body was trembling from the power of his reaction. Usually it was just him and Lex making out in the Fortress of Solitude. Or in the fields. Or in Lex's study or garage or car. There would be him fondling, stroking and going down on Lex. In his guiltier, more desperate, lonely fantasies, Lex was going down on him, hard and fast. 

But this was new. And he was tied up? 

His body, out of nowhere, erupted with lots of tiny but powerful explosions of exhilaration, something of a familiar sensation, but nothing he wanted to put his finger on. He wouldn't come away without making a mess. 

It took him a second to come to two conclusions: Lex had just touched him on the shoulder and- 

He'd just come in his pants. 

_Shit._

"Clark, hey. How are you?" 

The other boy sat down in the other side of the booth. Clark was still getting over the fact that he had just had an orgasm in his pants in a public place without any facet of physical stimulation. A fantasy -- he had no idea how it got into his head, but he was suddenly sure he had to be picking up Lex's thoughts -- had just had a naked him standing and tied to a bedpost- 

_That's what it was!_

-with a fully clothed Lex ready to go down on him and making him beg for it. 

That was not at all his style of eroticism. 

"Clark? You okay? You look like you just ran a marathon." 

He looked up to find Lex a little flushed and guilty-looking himself. For a moment Clark entertained the thought that maybe, just maybe, Lex _had_ been thinking about that… that… 

Yeah. _That_. And Clark had just accidentally picked up on it. 

He pushed the theory aside, though. It made no sense. What did make sense was that Lex was embarrassed and guilty from pretending to be in Metropolis when he obviously was not. 

Clark breathed in deep. "Yeah, I feel weird. All of a sudden, too. How are you?" 

Lex looked a little worried. "Good, thanks. What do you mean weird?" 

Clark wanted to bypass the whole 'well I just came in my pants thinking of you on your knees about to suck me off and, by the way, was that _your_ fantasy that the alien antenna in my head picked up?' discussion, so he decided to skip every formality on the list. 

He was not going to bullshit around with Lex. The older boy was supposed to be his friend, one of his best friends and Clark was pissed and hurt. He'd tried everything to see Lex, even almost cried over a fucking phone talking to Lex's butler with his mother in the next room. Lex had better have a damned good excuse. 

"Where have you been?" 

Lex stiffened slightly and, had it not been Clark sitting across from him – Clark, who was completely in tune with the young Luthor's lean body -- it might have gone unnoticed. "What is that supposed to mean?" 

He knew that Clark had been asking for him and… After all that Clark wanted, simple things he… Lex was going to try and deny this? 

"Well, obviously," Clark snapped. "It means 'what room of the castle were you burrowing in' because I know for damned sure that you never made it out to the city." 

Lex was losing his cool in a manner that Clark had never seen. "As a matter of fact I just got in the other night. In time to go to sleep then wake up to find a very weary, very hurt, very lost Chloe Sullivan on my doorstep." 

Clark felt himself stiffen and knew that Lex figured he'd made a mark, a point. Martha had told Clark the morning that Gabe had called twice asking where Chloe was and then telling her what had happened. Lex's mentioning of it had only infuriated him more. 

He began unbuttoning his flannel shirt. If he was going to make it out of here with any of his dignity left, he was going to have to cover himself. "So, you'll make time for a girl you barely know, but when your best friend comes knocking you send your butler?" 

He knew that Sam was more than a butler to Lex, but it was the principal. He wrapped the shirt around his waist. 

Lex's face was showing the guilt that he couldn't hide. "I made time for someone who needed me, Kent." He wasn't being soft either, and there was some tension behind his words. Words that cut Clark in half. 

"Need." Clark snorted. "What would you know about it?" 

Lex bristled at that. "A great deal more than you, I'm sure." 

Clark rolled his eyes, pissed at the hole in his heart that was starting to form. He decided he didn't like fighting with Lex anymore than the last few times it had happened. "Whatever. Maybe you should start thinking about others for once and not your own selfish fucking reasons." 

He stood, not really sure what he meant by his own words, and turned to go when Lex spoke. 

"Being there for Chloe was not selfish! What you're doing to her is." 

That stung. People were staring straight at them but he didn't care now. He spun around and headed straight for Lex. "What did she tell you?" 

Lex didn't drop his icy gaze from Clark's burning one. "Not much, but enough to draw my own conclusions." 

Clark barked out a laugh, loud and hard. "Your own conclusions. Like the world needs you to make any more of those." 

"Chloe needed you and you turned her down. That was selfish." 

"No!" he yelled. "I needed _you_ and you hid in your stupid god-damn castle." He swallowed aware that everyone in the Beanery was going to have a hell of a lot to talk about when the two of them were gone. "That," he whispered to Lex. "-was beyond selfish." 

He grabbed his coffee and stomped out of the coffee house unsure of just what to do or where to go. He had no Chloe to talk to about yet another argument with Lex. And this time it was an honest fight. 

_Well, fuck_, he thought, then felt the hand on his shoulder. 

"What did you mean 'you needed me'?" Lex asked, his toned softened. "And what's wrong with my conclusions?" 

Clark jerked his shoulder away. "Right. Your wonderful 'conclusions'. Wonderful assumptions is more like it. Take my poem, Lex. You 'concluded' that it was about Lana." 

Lex frowned. "Not just about the fairy princess then? It was about life _and_ Lana?" 

Clark had to count in his head before he either screamed or just kissed Lex in public. He wondered how often people pissed other people off until one of them just jumped the other to prove a point. 

"None of this or anything else has to do with Lana, Lex. It never does. It hasn't for the longest time." 

Lex's brow was furrowing even deeper. "Chloe, then?" 

"Jesus, Lex," he said exasperated beyond his body's comprehension. "Just fucking forget it." He turned around to walk away. 

"Okay, fine." He could hear Lex trying to keep up with him. Lex was in no way a short man at a full six feet, but Clark was six four and a half and right now he was sure that the extra four and a half inches seemed all leg and muscle. "Fine, Clark. Let's forget that. What business is it of yours where I stay or where I am?" 

That stopped Clark cold. He didn't bother turning around. "Excuse me?" 

"You have no right to question-" 

He turned around at that, enraged. "Your supposed 'best friend' has no right to question? You're hiding in your daddy's castle-" 

_Ooh. That was smart_, he thought sarcastically. 

"-pissed off or offended at something I did and then you have the nerve to pretend that you actually went to Metropolis? You lie to me?" 

Lex nodded, eyes spiritless, face passive. "You're right, Clark. I shouldn't have lied to you. I forgot that lies and secrets are your forte. I should've known you'd catch me in one." 

Clark just glared at him for a moment, unable to hide the pain, unable to come up with some witty come back. 

_He wants it this way? Fine._

"You don't know what a 'best friend' is about, Lex. You've no fucking clue." He turned and headed towards his pickup truck, figuring that Lex would call out to him, rush up to him, apologize in some fashion, or keep fighting. But he didn't. 

Clark hopped into the truck and put the keys in only to half a second later hear an engine growl and see Lex's blue-silver Mercedes take off. 

Lex had stolen his heart, his life and now his good dramatic exit. 

After a moment, Clark sighed, climbing out of the car. He walked down the alleyway between the Beanery and Dalton's Bookstore, made sure no one was looking, then took off after Lex's car. He wasn't going to do anything, really. Just make sure the millionaire didn't crash into any teenaged boys, through a bridge and into the waters below.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To be continued...**


	6. Chapter Five: Make Believe

TITLE: Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga {Sequel to _Poetry in Motion_}   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent, hints of a few others   
RATING: PG-13   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is one of my favorite chapters. I just love this, and I love writing from Chloe's POV. It's something that I'm trying more and more of in my spare time. I love her so!   
FEEDBACK: You can thank UofSNarnian for the posting of this. I wasn't sure if it was too soon, but I was convinced it wasn't, so I am posting this. 

* * *

**Chapter Five**   
_Make-Believe_

It had been late in the day, really late, when she heard about everything that had happened with Clark and Lex. They had a fight and, of course, since she was hearing about it through the grapevine, she was getting the versions most susceptible to bullshit. 

However, as a reporter-in-the-making, she prided herself on being able to wade through all the rumor and false truths. She figured, knowing Clark, that she could discard the slapping, the fistfight, and the all-out brawl on Smallville's main street. 

And the threats to Lex's life. 

And visa versa. 

It had been clear, however, that the fight was suspected to be about the already fragile standing that Lex was rumored to have with the Kents. According to popular belief Lex was either blackmailing the Kents, or backing out of an already purposed deal. 

It, thankfully, had nothing to do with gay man-love. 

_That could be a problem_, she thought. She'd come from Metropolis to Smallville, like Lex. She was shocked to see how very backwards things were in the town. At nine and living in the city, she'd had gay neighbors and everything had been explained to her. Here the Ross's were spoken of behind their backs as 'almost as good as white' and 'strangely intelligent black folk'. Only because the Ross's had been living here some thirty-odd years did that make it okay. There were about seven other black families in all of Smallville that she knew of. Seven. Out of a population of _how many_? It was something like thirty-five thousand or so. 

Needless to say it was not a popular place culturally and she knew that the last thing either Clark or Lex needed was to be outed. She was surprised that very few Smallvillites new about Lex's sexual orientation, but the majority of them were farmers whose wives nowadays helped on the land and in the house instead of playing bridge and talking about the latest gossip. If they did, they still would have to know someone in Metropolis that kept into that area to find out that Lex had been a playboy to both sides of the arena. 

Chloe sighed and turned left, onto American Ave. She had been able to pick out bits and pieces of the truth. Both boys were accusing the other of being selfish and of lying. Clark had started the fight, both Lana and Chloe were mentioned and apparently Clark had been so pissed he'd spilled his drink on his lap. 

She turned again, this time onto the dirtroad that lead to Clark's house, and sped up. 

It had been hard not going straight to Lex, but she'd decided that Clark needed to talk. First of all, he knew what Lex felt about him, knew that Lex was in love and Chloe wanted to remind him of this. Lex still had no idea. 

Also, Clark had come to her before when he and Lex argued, the few times they had, and she knew that this was their biggest yet. She wasn't even sure Lex would be comfortable talking to her. He might not even admit to her his feelings for Clark and that would make a discussion between them awkward and difficult. 

So she was here to help Clark, to be there for him. 

"If that's what he wants," she muttered to herself and passed Lana's drive. She scrunched her nose on instinct. She was sure that she would never get over her dislike for Lang. It was just meant to be. If she was supposed to like the little pink princess in her perfectly fucked up world, there would be some kind of sign. But there hadn't been. So she took that as a sign itself. 

She pulled into Clark's drive a minute later and sighed. This wouldn't be tough. Clark was still her friend and she still loved him. Everybody makes their share of bad decisions and mistakes. Treating him like a prospective story was just one of hers. But friends made it through bad times and stupid mistakes. 

She was just going to be there for him, treating right now as it would be any other way on any other day, as if the fights had not happened. 

Still her breath was shallow and her gut was tense. What if he didn't want her to be there for him? What if he didn't want to talk to her? 

_Yeesh._

She rang the doorbell and reminded herself that she was just trying to be there for the boy that she used to desire. He fought with Lex, it was bound to be tough and, maybe, if he could talk about it with someone, he could see the light. 

Martha answered the door wiping her hands on an ever-present dish-towel. It was almost seven so the Kents would have already finished diner. She was probably washing and drying the dishes. 

"Chloe! Hey! How's it going? We haven't seen you here in the longest!" 

Chloe figured from day one that Clark would have told his parents about her keeping the adoption papers. He seemed to share everything with them and something this important… Well, she was sure it wouldn't be any different. 

But the way that Martha was chattering on about how much Jonathon and her had missed seeing Chloe and Pete around, the way she warmly invited Chloe in and then told her to just march herself up the stairs and to Clark's room… It was obvious that Clark wasn't sharing everything. 

She walked up the familiar steps feeling a little odd and out of place. She had been hoping that Clark would be hiding in his little Fortress of Solitude. It was a less intimate place and somewhere she could go and not feel like she was intruding. 

She knocked his door lightly and her the bed squeaking slightly. 

"It's Chloe," she whispered. 

"Oh." The bed squeaked again. "Come in." 

She opened the door to find Clark curled up in bed, facing the window. 

"Shut it behind you, okay?" 

At least he was letting her into his room. She closed the door and stood there for a minute looking at the view. The sun was going down behind the barn and the sky was a bright mixture of red and orange. 

"It's beautiful." 

Clark shrugged. 

"What was the squeaking all about?" 

He held up a leather-bound book. "I thought you were my mom. I was hiding it under the bed." 

"What is it?" 

Clark sighed and flipped over onto his back, scooting up to the headboard of the bed and crossing his legs. He patted the now empty spot in an invitation and Chloe had to blink back against the sting in her eyes. He was slowly forgiving her. He was allowing her back into his life. 

She sat down, toed off her shoes – clunkers, Pete called them – and crossed her legs as well, pulling on the hem of her capris. 

Clark handed her the book. It was small but thick and when she opened it, there was a lot of Clark's handwriting. Pages and pages full. 

He stared back out the window. "It must have been, I don't know, two weeks after I realized that I was actually in love with Lex. Not just physically attracted to him, but in love with him. I went over to his house with his produce and he came down like normal and we got to talking about the stupidest things." Clark paused for a full minute before continuing. "He brought me up to his study and we were laughing about something or other, when he picked this up and tossed it to me. He told me that every boy should have a secret treasure. He knew that I gave the chest to Lana-" 

"The metal one." 

Clark nodded. "That was the original purpose. Was for me to give it to her. He thought that it was time I had a treasure of my own and told me to open it. I did and was surprised to see that it was blank." 

Chloe shut the book and fingered the cover. It said 'Neverland' on the cover, embellished, ample and gorgeous. 

"I thought it was the story of Peter Pan, but it was a journal. He laughed when I used the word journal. He said that it was a magic book of sorts, that it could take me anywhere I wanted. All I had to do was write it and it would happen. It would be real." 

Clark laughed softly and Chloe saw the longing there. "I felt twelve. I got home though and wasn't sure what to write. It took me more than a month. Then one night, Lex and I were out in the barn when a storm rushed in. He had to go so I ran with him to his car. He slipped and I caught him before he fell. As I pulled him up our cheeks touched and I-" 

Chloe held her breath, desperate to know the ending. 

"Well, if you read the book, I kissed him. I kissed him hard and convinced him to come back to the barn with me. I started writing that night," he finished softly. 

"What really happened?" she prodded. 

"In that book I can fly, Chloe. I can save people. I'm a hero with a life, a history. In real life I'm a loser that let my cheek brush against his then sheltered his leather seats from the rain with my body. That was it. I let him go, Chlo. I let him leave." 

She nodded. "Sometimes imagination is so much better. It's a world a lot of people want to live in." 

He breathed in and finally looked at her. "I don't want you to ever lie to me again, Chloe. Not about something like… that. Never. Okay?" 

Her eyes were burning with tears again. She nodded. "Of course." 

He nodded back. "So, I'm assuming I can trust you." 

"Yes. With my heart, I swear, Clark." 

He reached for her and Chloe wasn't sure how long she stayed in his embrace before he starting talking again. He was warm and addictive and someone still liked and trusted her. 

"I couldn't in a million years hate you, but I can't be your friend if I can't trust you, Chloe. I know you had your reasons." He pulled her into his lap and moved her head to rest on his shoulder. "I know you had your reasons, and I'm going to take them away. I love you and want you to know me, so I'm going to tell you the truth now." 

She nodded against his shoulder. 

"And I want you to be quiet and listen to me, alright? I want you to believe me. I'm not lying to you." 

"Okay, Clark." 

They sat like that, her curled into his lap and lying on his shoulder while he played with her hair absently. They breathed in and out, in and out for a while, then he cleared his throat lightly. 

"It started with the meteor shower."   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To be continued...**


	7. Chapter Six: Patience

TITLE: Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga {Sequel to _Poetry in Motion_}   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent, hints of a few others   
RATING: PG-13   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's, eh-hem, been a little while. For that I humbly apologize. Some of this has been written recently, some of it was written before I left the internet world for a while. To me it all fits and I can't wait to work on the last installment of the trilogy. FIrst, however, I do believe that _ILS_ is in desperate need of another chapter or two.   
FEEDBACK: Please tell me what you're thinking, I enjoy lurking in other minds. 

* * *

**Chapter Six**   
_Patience_

Martha rushed into Clark's room just as Clark woke up. "Clark, Chloe, honey. There's a problem." 

Clark blinked, trying to wake up. His eyes were gritty and dry and it took him a minute to remember that he'd been crying all night with Chloe. He'd shared and bared everything to her. And she'd done the same, told him things that she'd never intended to tell anyone as a kind of bonding. 

Then they'd fallen asleep. She was curled into his arm, her head on his chest and, if memory served, she was harder to wake up than his mother after their weekend at Disneyworld. 

"Oh, Clark, Janet just called. She said that she and Richard have been looking all over for Pete. He told them he was staying here and somewhere else while a couple of family members were visiting, but they called here _and_ the Pullman's and said they couldn't find him. They were surprised to find out that Pete had never come over here or to-" 

"Pullman's?" Chloe asked, suddenly waking up. "Georgie Pullman's?" 

Then it hit him. He knew where Pete was. "Mom, it's okay, he's at the old treehouse." 

She frowned. "How do you know that?" 

"Because," Chloe started sleepily, pulling away from Clark. "Going to Georgie Pullman's was code for 'let's go up to the tree house and get-" 

Clark pushed her face down into the pillow to muffle the last word. He didn't want his mother thinking treehouse + Pete + Clark = drunk, even if that was the truth. 

He looked up at his mother and laughed nervously. "He's probably out there sulking, mom. We had an argument a little while ago. Chloe and I will run over there and make sure he's okay." 

Martha nodded. "Alright, well, I'll get the keys from your father as soon as he gets back." 

Clark winced. This was not going to be easy. "Actually mom, I thought," he lowered his voice even though he was sure that Chloe had fallen back to sleep. "I thought I'd carry Chloe and just run." 

Martha looked horrified. "What if she woke up?" 

He looked down at his best friend and played with her hair a little. "Well, mom, see-" 

"No, Clark," his mother breathed. "You can't tell her." 

He winced again and kept playing with the blonde strands. He was glad he already had, otherwise the desperate tone to his mother's voice would have kept him from talking to Chloe about his origins for another week, at the least. "We had a fight too. Things got really emotional last night and-" 

"Oh, no. Clark, _no_, baby. Tell me you didn't." 

He swung his legs over the edge and sat up, careful not to disturb Chloe. "She's still here, isn't she? She didn't run out to get away from the big, ugly skin-eating, body-snatching alien. And she won't tell anyone anything. I promise. _She_ promised." 

"But you're putting all of us in danger, Clark, including her." 

He stood up and hugged his mother. "I love you, Mom, but this is one area where you and Dad are very, very wrong. Chloe would have kept researching me until she found out someway or another. And what if the way she found out was through a videotape? Then anyone could find out if they got their hands on the tape." Martha started to protest but he pulled back and shushed her. 

"I love Chloe, Mom. She's my best friend-" 

Martha frowned. "You have an awful lot of best friends." 

He nodded. "Three. And I intend for them all to know." 

Martha shut her eyes tight. "Not Lex, please honey. Not him." 

"I love Lex." 

"I know you do, but what if your father's right? What if Lex is not who-" 

"No, Mom. You're not listening." 

She was quiet and looked at him. 

"People who are curious will do more damage than people, trustworthy people, that have been let in on a secret. Now I love you and Chloe, Dad and Pete, but I _love_ Lex. In the same way that you love Dad." 

He paused and Martha looked stunned. "You're... you like... You're really-" 

"Apparently." 

"Oh, god. Does he know?" 

"He? Know?" 

"Lex. Does he know that you… that you're-" 

"That you're gay. For him," Chloe's muffled voice filled in. 

His mother looked a little flustered and Clark wondered how much of this Chloe had overheard. 

He turned back to his mother and shook his head. "Not yet. But he will. Soon. Now Chloe and I have to go. Can you make a quick batch of that red eye stuff for when we bring Pete back?" 

Martha nodded. "If this is really all too much for me to take in, Clark, imagine your father." 

"He'll get over it." 

"Yes, but it will take him killing Lex to do it?" 

Clark smiled. "He'll just have to get past me first." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"The big, ugly skin-eating, body-snatching alien?" 

Clark shrugged and she smiled at him. "Been watching to much FX there, buddy." 

He stood still. "I was sure it was around here somewhere? Are you okay to stand?" 

Chloe shook her head. Clark running had been… Well… "No, I think I'll just sit for a moment, thanks." 

He nodded. "I'll be right back." He took off again and she shook her head in wonder. 

The world had become lines, like a beautiful painting set askew by light or water or a warped mind. It was like one of those anti-gravity things. It held such power in that moment. She felt heavy and, at the same time, light. Like she could fly. 

As soon as she got home, she was going to have to do some heavy thinking and soul searching to write, to describe it. And of course she would have to label it as a "dream" so as to protect Clark and his family, should anyone for any reason ever read her journal. 

"Last night I had this incredible dream," she said and couldn't help but feel giddy. The run had left her in an over-amped state, too much adrenaline for her little frame. 

The journalistic side of her wanted to know everything about Clark, everything about how he first began life here, how his parents kept up with him, what they felt when they found him… Everything. 

But she knew she couldn't ask. Not yet. Not so soon. She still had to prove to Clark -- and herself -- that she was trustworthy, that she could draw the line between personal and publishable. She was too lucky to have him in her life. She would never again hide anything from him. Not like the adoption records. Nothing pertaining to him. 

She got up and started walking to the right, the opposite direction of Clark, thinking about how he had explained his parent's reactions to his arrival. 

Jonathon was a man of the land and therefore very physical of mind. Chloe took this and what she personally knew about him to mean that he couldn't really believe in something until he saw proof of it. He couldn't trust that which he could not see. It was just in him to be a simple man. He had faith in the life of making yourself, where what you reaped, you sowed, and what you had coming to you, whether good or bad, would eventually get to you. 

Martha was more the believer of the two, the heart. She believed in a higher power, but had no true religious affiliation. She had faith that if you were a good and true person that karma would lighten your life. 

It was easy to see why they had excepted Clark so easily into their lives. He was a welcome presence, the icing on the cake. The only thing missing from their family. Their angel had fallen from the sky and they had never questioned why the boy had come into their lives. The just accepted it. It was to be. 

A sound of a piece of wood falling from the tree ahead caught Chloe's attention and she looked up ahead. There was a large pile of plywood, broken and in shambles, not twenty feet away. 

_No_, she thought. _This can't be it. This is just some old wood dump, or homeless bonfire._

Smallville hadn't had a homeless problem since the shelter opened in '92. 

Her feet were already carrying her as fast as they could to the heap. She reached it and fell to her knees praying to herself that this was not the remains of the treehouse. She'd only been here three times; it was a boy's place and, as much as she was 'one of the guys' she could not pass physical exemptions. The only breasts that were allowed inside the hideout were ample ones, belonging to models caught in surreptitious poses and plastered on the inside of glossy magazines. 

She caught sight of the shiny, Heineken long-neck glittering in the sun from within the debris and she knew that this was where her poor Pete was; a premature burial ground. The symbolism of the entombment was thick in her mind and heart. A boy lost beneath the broken remnants of his childhood. It had no doubt given in beneath him. 

Much like their friendships. 

As she yanked another board away from the pile she caught sight of a familiar hand; a hand with the discoloration of a pale scar leading down the inside of the wrist and up halfway to the elbow, which was still hidden under the wood. 

"Pete," she whispered. The scar was from just two years ago, Christmas. The three of them and a few other dozen kids had been skating on Crater Lake when a patch broke under her. Clark had been off to the side, watching Lana, but Pete had been skating with her and acted fast. He'd grabbed onto her and pulled her hard enough to send her on her ass a few feet away from the hole. The water beneath him had gotten slippery and he'd fallen, slicing his coat, sweater and arm on the blade of her brand new ice-skates. She'd called out to Clark who'd run to get help. Together they'd saved Pete. 

Called out. To Clark. Saved Pete. Together. 

"CLARK!" she screamed while feeling for a pulse. She was too frantic to tell if there was one. +_+_+_+_+ 

_**~"Where have you been?"~**_

Lex should have known better. Plain and simple. He shouldn't have lied when Clark asked him. 

_Why even fucking care?_ the drunk half of him asked, then downed another gulp of vodka. His lips pulled back, baring his white teeth, and he hissed, watching his reflection in the antique gold flask. 

The fire crackled and popped eight feet from him and he slouched even further into the over-stuffed chair. He could see that the light outside had long since faded, and it fit his mood, 

He'd gotten angry at the implication in Clark's voice, not subtle, but blatant and unswerving. He didn't like being questioned and didn't like demands made of him either. Then bringing up Chloe's need and Clark's not being there for her… 

He always knew what buttons to push on Clark. It was always so fucking easy, right there on the poor boy's face. The farmboy hadn't been taught to hide his weak spots. He was taught to hide _something_, something that seemed to Lex to be his strong _and_ vulnerable suit, but never to hide his personal aches. The kid had a lot to learn. 

He had his own weak spots. Clark was the biggest of them all. The blood in his heart was only running, was only pumping because of Clark's influence in his life. Everything had stopped and his life had deserted him. Then the kid decided to save Lex Luthor. So Clark ripped off the roof of the car, endangering himself and his family with the risk of exposure, and breathed life into a body better left cold, better left alone on the bottom of some muddy river. 

He was Clark's. There was no other way of looking around at the situation. He was Clark's. Clark Kent owned him, body, heart, soul, mind… And whatever else Lex Luthor had. 

Clark had needed him, he'd said, needed Lex Luthor. The only human being left alive that was capable of actually, genuinely _caring_ about him had needed him for some reason or other and he'd selfishly hid. 

Sam said Clark had sounded sad. 

Sam said Clark was persistent. 

Sam said Clark loved him. 

"Sam." Lex threw the flask at the wall, disappointed by the lack of damage it did there. He should have been drinking out of a glass, or aimed for the Tiffany vase by the hearth. 

Sam had told him his mother would get better. 

Sam had assured him that Lillian would live. 

"Sam's full of shit." 

He remembered the pain though in Clark's young eyes. It was mixed with something else. Something heavy and needy and passionate. 

He made a dispirited sound. Clark was passionate about a lot of things. About a lot of someones. But not him. 

Combine the pain and the mystery product and you had a very confused Lex. Then there was all that talk about his assumptions and Clark's poem. And he still wasn't sure what Clark giving Lex his own poem back meant. 

_**~"None of this or anything else has to do with Lana, Lex. It never does. It hasn't for the longest time."~**_

He'd naturally thought Chloe, but that couldn't be. Then a glimmer of hope that was smashed by habit. Clark couldn't be talking about him. Too long in Metropolis reading the signs from men and women had sensitized him up to sexual interest. But Clark wasn't like that. He was clean and sterile and sweet. The only thing that made him sweaty was farmwork, the only thing that got him grimy was 'the good Lord's earth'. 

Lex rolled his eyes at his unfair presentation of Clark. The boy had never shown any fanatical leanings towards religion and probably thought homosexuals and bis were fine and dandy. 

"As long as they don't approach him," Lex thought aloud and couldn't help but wonder if the booze was at fault for his scattered thoughts, or if that was still Clark. 

Both could explain why he kept playing around the conversation as if Clark was hinting towards something, as if there was something there to pick up on. 

_**~"You don't know what a 'best friend' is about, Lex. You've no fucking clue."~**_

"Well, duh," he whispered, hating the sound of the doorbell as it broke into his thoughts. 

"SAM!" he called out before he remembered. Sam was 'out on the town' with some lady friend he kept meeting at the market, not that that had surprised Lex. Not for a very long time. Sam had always been single, had always been a lady's man. When Lex had been younger, he'd carelessly asked Sam why he was single. That had been the single time that Sam had ever lost his temper with Lex. Sam had coldly replied that it was none of his business, then briskly walked away. 

"The extent of his horrid temper," Lex muttered sarcastically. He'd seen much worse come from Lionel. He ran his tongue over the ridge on his top lip. The scar would never go away. 

The bell was there again. Lex had thought he'd do better to be left alone, without his staff in the mansion, but that was before he had a visitor. Now he wished that he had someone to answer the door, someone to tell whoever it was to go the hell away. 

The bell rang a third and fourth time. 

_Persistent._

The thought that it was Clark got him up and out of his seat before his mind could register his body's actions. He told himself that it was because he wanted another shot at Clark, another chance to make the boy feel horrible, as Clark had done to him. A chance to show Clark that he didn't matter at all. 

Deep down he knew he just wanted to see Clark's face. Angry or not, it was a beautiful face, and one that would still forgive him. Lips that would apologize for getting overheated at the Beanery, eyes that would be downcast over his own actions and at Lex's refusal to tell him the truth, hair that would fall over his forehead and eyes the minute that Lex pointed out that he shouldn't have lied, that he should have just trusted Clark would understand a need to be alone. 

In his dreams, his better dreams, Clark would walk towards him, grasp his upper arms and tell him that he was never going to be alone again, that Clark would simply not allow it. Lex would try to protest and then find that Clark had an incredibly effective way of shutting him up. And the kisses -- among anything and _everything_ else -- would last all night. 

The bell rang a fifth time and startled Lex out of his thoughts. He was standing at the door, palm and forehead pressed to the hard, cold wood. He didn't remember getting there, didn't remember even getting up really, but could feel the pressure of lips against his. God, did he need someone to make sure he'd never be alone. 

He yanked open the door, fully expecting a tall, handsome farmboy and finding a short, pretty blonde. 

"Chloe," he said, and leaned up against the doorframe. "I'm really not gonna be help tonight." 

She shook her head. "I'm not here for me." 

He frowned. "Wha d'ya mean?" 

One eyebrow quirked along with the sides of her mouth. "Well, I came for you, but it looks like intoxication got here first." 

He shrugged, too drunk to deny or even feel agitated. It was the truth and if anyone other than Clark and Sam could call him on it, Chloe was right at home in the spot. 

"You really love him that much?" 

His head snapped up and his eyes stared hard at her. "What?" 

"Nothing, Lex." 

"What did you-" 

She walked past him into the foyer. "Pete was in a treehouse some three or four stories up and fell." 

"Uh-" 

"Clark and I rushed him to the hospital where he spent several hours undergoing a few routine surgeries. The doctors put him under so many painkillers that he'll be asleep well into tomorrow." 

"Uh, Chloe-" 

"They told all of us to go home. All of us except his mother. I felt so…" She turned to face Lex. "There were a bunch of his family members, me, my dad, Clark and his parents. We all felt so helpless. Lex, Pete's arm, legs, wrists and a few ribs are broken. His back suffered injuries and he'll be lucky to fully recover without having to use a cane for the rest of his life." 

She sat down on the couch and Lex realized that this was all too much information for him to handle. Right now he considered standing without falling a major accomplishment. 

"I've cried myself out and then some. I'm not here to do more of that. I'm here for you." 

"So you said." He plopped down on the armchair across from her. His head felt all gooey and spinning and like the world was just not going to hold still. He'd gone past his nice buzz, and getting up had alerted his mind to the rest of his body's drunken progress. 

And Chloe was in his chair. His nice bodily-pre-warmed, cushiony chair. And he was stuck with the cold, stiff fabric of the armchair to left side of the fireplace. 

"Lex?" Chloe's voice was soft and still and it was the point around which he could focus. Not the chairs. 

"Yeah, Chlo?" He said her name, her nickname, because it felt good to know that she was there, that she was with him. Even if he was falling asleep -- passing out -- she had come to see him well. 

"You love him, right?" 

"Yup," he answered simply and resolutely. 

"You love him a lot?" 

His eyes closed, heavy and final. "With all a heart I didn't know still worked." 

"Then be patient. Do you hear me, Lex?" 

"Yes," he answered. "Be patient."   


**To be continued tomorrow...**


	8. Epilogue: Pete

TITLE: Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga {Sequel to Poetry in Motion}   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent, hints of a few others   
RATING: PG-13   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was posted with absolutely NO BETA. Not even by myself because I wanted so badly to post it. There. It's all done. At least this story.   
FEEDBACK: Please tell me what you're thinking, I enjoy lurking in other minds. 

* * *

**Epilogue**   
_Pete_

Clark and Chloe were there, along with their parents. None of them were allowed into the hospital room, but they had been called by Pete's mom because the boy had been moving, had been stirring and talking in his sleep. 

"It's a very good sign," said the young doctor, new to his post and looking very tired. "Any activities that he takes right now, the moving of limbs, the talking, the waking up slightly before going directly back to sleep… They are all good signs showing that he is not in a coma and not paralyzed. Just under heavy medication that he cannot force himself to stay awake on." 

"What about his back?" Chloe asked. Her demeanor was calm, but her hands were wringing the hell out of the strap of her purse. "His mother said something about him breaking his back or something?" 

"At the time, we warned Mrs. Ross that he may have sustained a break in one or more vertebrae. However only two were fractured, none were broken and the two are not consecutively placed on the spinal column, so they will not have to be fused. That is very, very good." 

Clark grabbed Chloe's hand, knowing that she tended to cry more when relieved than worried. 

"When will he be waking up?" Jonathon's voice startled Clark, who had forgotten for a second that his parents had been back there. 

"He's under the influence of an awful lot of pain killers. We're lessening the doses right now, bringing the amount down and his awareness up. With what we're giving him now he may wake within the hour. Maybe a little more." 

A nurse walked up to the doctor handing him a folder and whispering something. Clark didn't bother to listen. Instead he turned to Chloe. "Do you want to go for a walk?" 

She nodded and wiped her eyes on a handkerchief that Jonathan had given her. Clark looked at his parents. "We're going to take a small walk." 

"That's a good idea," Martha said smiling at him. "We were going to talk to his mother anyway. I'm sure she could use some company right about now." 

Chloe and Clark made their way down the gaily colored halls, doors left and right filled with sick people, broken people, dying people. The corridors were filled with doctors, nurses, people watching their loved ones from outside windows peering into the rooms. Watching them so close and yet, so very horribly far away. 

He hated hospitals and had been in too many in too little time. 

They got outside into the courtyard and was depressed to see the sky was gray. He felt the first few sprinkles of rain and turned, ready to go back inside but Chloe's hand caught him. 

"Not so fast." The look on her face was desperate, not at all matching the take charge tone in her voice. "I don't want to be in there, okay? Please?" Now the tone matched her eyes. "I hate- hate thinking that Pete is in there, with those other people and if we can't see Pete I don't want to sit there seeing everyone else and thinking-" 

Clark moved his hand to cover her mouth. He could certainly understand where she was coming from and getting a little wet wasn't going to hurt them. 

He held her, one head cupping her head, the other rubbing her back. 

"I'm all cried out." Her voice sounded tired and far away. "I can't imagine Pete with a cane. He's so active. Loves basketball and track. Loves ice skating. Plays football." 

"He didn't break both legs like the doctors originally thought." He pulled her back, forcing her to look at him. "They thought he was in a whole lot worse a shape then he really was in. And if they could be wrong about something as simple as a broken leg, then how can they foresee his future use of a cane?" 

She smiled at him and he felt relieved just to see that simple curve. "Yeah, I guess. And Pete's always been strong." 

He nodded. "Pete'll be throwing that cane to the wind in no time. He might no be able to play football ever again-" 

"Coach Trampitt will be crushed," Chloe intoned sarcastically and they both smiled. Pete had always enjoyed the game but had been in it mostly for his father's happiness. Basketball was another issue. The boy loved basketball. 

"Well have to make sure we fit a few games of HORSE into his physical therapy, though." 

"Oh, of course," Chloe nodded fiercely, heading towards the gate leading outside the courtyard. "Pete can't live without basketball." 

"We should get him a portable television." 

She laughed, putting her arms on top of the gate and looking over. "I can just see the doctor trying to talk to him about his wrist and he's like 'Shh, shh-" 

Clark laughed and walked to stand beside her. 

"'Just wait until this pass, until the ad's are on- NO! NO! How could you miss that shot?'" 

"I wouldn't be surprised if the doctor takes his TV away. Uses it as a reward system." 

Chloe laughed lightly, but Clark could tell something else had entered her mind. "What is it Chlo?" 

She breathed in and now looked even more sad than he'd seen her since- Since her puppy died three years ago. It had escaped, the leash had not been clipped properly and it ran out into the road. 

Chloe had taken forever to get over it. He was sure, in fact, that it was something that she would never get over. Fred, her beautiful basset hound, her baby, her most precious pet in the world… Chloe had not looked at another dog since, had not wanted another pet. Said she would never get another one. 

He put his arm around her. "What is it, Chloe?" 

"You're so wonderful, Clark. You forgave me when you shouldn't have-" 

"I was hiding things too, Chloe. There can't be that kind of double standard in our-" 

"What about Pete?" 

The only answer to her question was a flash of lightning far away to their right and the ensuing thunder, crashing hard and loud all around. "Will he forgive me?" 

"Will he forgive _us_, Chloster. Us. He's mad at me, too." 

"But was it your fault that he was drunk up there in that tree house? Was it both of us?" 

He sighed. He hadn't thought of that. "Yeah, probably. I mean, you've got to not blame yourself completely. He's the one who decided to get drunk and hideaway." 

"But it was _our fault_ that he felt that way." 

"Yes, but it was his choice." 

She smiled a little. "You sound like a therapist. Soon you'll be telling me that we're not responsible for other peoples choices." 

Clark grinned. "We're not responsible for other peoples choices." 

A loud motor gunned somewhere to their left, close. Probably in the hospital parking lot. 

It reminded him of Lex. 

"And that you can't force people to make the right decisions." 

"You can't," he said turning around and leaning with his back against the fence. "But you can try." 

"You can try." Chloe said, her eyes locked on something. "Try to help them. Suggest what they should do. But when they're too stupid to do what you suggest? To scared to do that single right thing?" 

He had a sinking suspicion that they weren't talking about Pete anymore. "Then I guess you have to leave it all up to them," he muttered carefully. "Let them make their own mistakes." 

Chloe looked up at him. "And when they've made that same mistake over and over?" 

Clark shrugged. Was she referring to him? "Then let them make it again and just hope that they'll finally get a clue." 

She nodded. "Alright. That sounds fair." She turned and opened the gate. For a moment, Clark thought they were going to be continuing their walk, but Chloe stepped back. "Hi, Lex." 

Clark bolted up from the gate and saw Lex walk through. 

The car. The motor gunning. That had been Lex. 

"Hi, Chloe." Lex turned to her, a sheepish look on his face. "I meant to talk with you about last night, but you left before I got out of the bathroom." 

Chloe grinned, mischievous and knowing. Her eyes glanced meaningfully at Clark for a moment, then slid back to Lex. "Don't remember any of it?" 

The sheepish look just grew as Lex blushed. 

_Lex blushing?!_

Clark grew angry for a second, wondering just what his friends had been up to, but he calmed himself. Chloe would never, ever… Lex wouldn't even come close to… 

Just a few weeks ago the only thing he had to worry about was how to get into Lex's lap. Now, God. There was everything. But not that. Never, ever that. 

"It's no problem. I just tried to put your mind at ease about something important. _Be patient_." 

Lex looked confused for a moment, then the frown melted away with a slowly dawning look of understanding. 

"Bye boys." Chloe closed the gate with her on the other side. She was continuing their walk. Just without him. 

"Don't be stupid, Clark," she called out. He blushed, remembering words from their conversation. 

**you can't force people to make the right decisions, but you can try **

when they're too stupid to do what you suggest? to scared to do that single right thing? 

_Pray_, he thought. _Pray that I do this right_. 

After all, he had told his mother. Shouldn't that be harder to do than telling Lex himself? 

He thought of _Neverland_, his hopeful journal. And he got an idea. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

_**"Be patient."**_

For some reason, that had put him at rest. That had calmed his worried stomach. He had talked with Clark who had refused to let him apologize about the fight. The boy said that it should not even be mentioned. That, if anything, it was mostly his fault for lying to Lex for so long about so many things. 

That had caught Lex's attention as surely as seeing the boy smile at him had caught his heart. 

So Clark and Lex had walked back up to Pete's room and waited. And waited. 

Soon enough Chloe had rejoined them and the three of them together waited even longer. Then, as Lex had hoped, Pete's mother came out. And saw him. 

The scene that had erupted outside of her son's room had made both Clark and Chloe uncomfortable enough to leave. And as they escaped to another area in the hospital, Lex had been forced to calm down Janet Ross quickly and quietly. The hatred for the Luthors rarely ran stronger than in the Ross family. He had had to use ever ounce of charm, sincerity and 'I'm not my father' propaganda that he'd had in him. And, now, he was exhausted for it. 

He now had put a chip in the Ross family's wall and he would eventually break that damn thing down, just as he was working on with the Kents. Of course that was for completely different reasons- 

_My angel_. 

-but there were reasons for everything, and even if they differed completely, even if the motivations were ethically questionable, at least he had them in the first place. Goals were important and fixing his relationship with the Ross family over something that his father could take the blame for… It was an important goal, a big step in distancing himself from his father. If he could do it with them, he could do it with the world. 

He tossed his keys in the bowl by the door, then shrugged off his jacket, not caring when the nine-hundred dollar garment hit the muddied floor behind him. It had been raining since before he had reached the hospital. And it had not stopped. He wasn't sure that it was ever going to stop. 

He pulled out the lavender piece of paper, the paper that had somehow gotten to Clark and then the boy felt obligated to return it. 

Did he even know that it was about him? 

Lex had told himself that he was going to think about it later, but he didn't feel like it, didn't want to know the meaning of Clark returning the damned thing. 

As he climbed the stairs to his room, he skimmed through the poem, to his favorite parts. The parts that had felt like his heart had been dripping onto the paper as he wrote.   
  


_You, my angel, stand silently   
keeping vigil over us   
head bowed in light prayer   
on and on you protect what we cherish most_   
  


His protector. What had Clark thought of when he read these words? Had he picked up on the clues?   
  


_In my life the lightning flashes   
and the horrible thunder screams   
I can't see you there   
but I feel your saintly presence_   
  


Lex could feel him now, even as his weary body climbed too many stairs in the dead of the early morning. Clark had promised towards something with the witting mention of his lies. He had subtly insured that Lex would not have to wonder any longer about just what it was that Clark was hiding from him.   
  


_You're the sun when it pours   
and sane when it's rough   
I've lost all faith in ideals   
But you bring back such hope_   
  


Suddenly Clark was bringing even more hope than usual, more than just an amazing friendship, more than hope for Lex's future. Lex could actually see something in their friendship shift, but he wasn't sure what. It was a shape he could feel with his heart, a shape that lingered far off in the future. It was something that he hoped would become more defined and very soon. 

He got to his room, his head and heart pounding, his eyes weary and tired. He didn't even want to undress. He just put the poem on the night table and flopped onto the bed in the dark, yelping at the pain in his back. There was something on the bed. Something big and hard and jabbing. 

He stood up and turned on the lamp next to his bed, then blinked, not sure he was seeing what he was seeing. 

The journal he'd given Clark months and months ago was lying there, facing him, and a note lay atop. 

"Clark," he whispered not at all sure why the book was there, but feeling a warm surge of love for the kid. He'd felt so awkward today, seeing Clark and Chloe together at the hospital. He hadn't been sure just how much Chloe had shared with Clark, and the fact that Clark was surely still mad at him… Lex was sure that he couldn't take another fight with Clark, not so soon after the first one. He'd been so angry with the boy, felt so hurt. He climbed into his car and raced away but soon after he'd left he felt Clark with him. 

_I feel your saintly presence._

Like he had been watching over Clark. Like everything had been okay. 

And it was. And now the _Neverland_ lay on his plush comforter, looking inviting and tempting and scary in a way. He felt that, by reading the words written by Clark, their relationship would change drastically and he hoped it would be for the better. 

He fingered the lettering as though he'd never before seen it. It held something that Clark deemed important enough for him to read, something intimate enough that he could not look Lex in the eye whilst handing it over. If it had just been a simple story, the boy would have just brought it over, embarrassed by sharing his amateur writing talents, but still handing it over. 

There was something deep inside, something emotional. And it scared Lex. Was he actually ready for this? 

He picked up the note, feeling disappointed as he realized that the penmanship was far too neat and proper to be Clark's.   
  
__

Master Luthor,   
Young Mister Kent arrived before you. He left this, saying that he was done with it for a while. Said you might be interested in reading it. By the time you are in bed I will have retired for the night. My ailments are bothering me worse than usual tonight, but if you wish for anything to be done, please ring.   
Love,   
Sam   
  


Lex's breath caught. The last time that Sam had written 'love' had been around the time of Lex's mother's death, just days before, and Sam had realized that all he'd hoped, all he'd thought was not true. They were all losing Lily. 

Lex sat down, tears behind the lids of his eyes as he felt the wet grass beneath his youthful bare feet. He could smell the orange tree that his mother had planted several years before he was born, the tree she used to sit him under during the springs and summers to read. 

**_"I give you your life," Torre said, "but both of you must go to King Arthur and yield to him as my prisoners."_**

"Who shall we say defeated us?" Lex whispered. 

The tears ran and he could see the night, the foggy night with the stars from heaven mocking him. The fates were taking away his mother, killing her slowly, he was loosing her, but he was loosing Sam too, and he couldn't allow it. 

He clutched the note from Sam in his hand, remembering how the paper felt in his hand. It was burning, the fire of a traitor, and he could see the headlights of a car turn on. 

"No," Lex whispered, more tears down his face. "No." In his recollection he screamed, catching the attention of an almost AWOL Samuel Loomis. Lex had run up the small hill to the man's live-in quarters, found him standing next to the 1970's Jag that his mother had convinced him to purchase himself years ago, and started to sob. He began to pound Sam as hard as his frail little nine year old arms could, hitting Sam all over, ignoring the occasional wayward elbow or wrist hit the hard metal of the classic car. 

Lex's hand moved from the bedspread to his elbow without even thinking. He could feel the dull throbbing, could see the bruise that he kept well hidden from his father's hawk-eyes for the few days it had been there. Even then, he had healed so fast, so completely… 

Sam had tried to leave him, tried to disappear without a trace, without a goodbye. Lex still had the note, remembered the pain that he had seen in Sam's eyes. Lex had hit him as hard as he could and Sam eyes had grown watery. 

_"Please, Young Master."_

He hadn't listened. He just kept beating. 

_"Lex, please."_

And that was when Loomis wrapped his warm arms around Lex. And the boy had stopped throwing punches entirely. A moment later he fell to the ground, sobs wreaking havoc on his tiny frame. 

The phone rang and Lex jumped, instantly feeling weak for the tears, pathetic for the memory. He glanced down at the paper grasped tightly in his fist. 

_'Love.'_

The phone rang again. 

He remembered strong arms carrying him back to the mansion, remembered those arms putting him to bed, covering him as exhaustion flooded his little body. 

He remembered Sam leaving, then returning, this time with a large book for Lex. Not to read in, but to write. To create. To make a world in which things were better. 

He'd never had the courage. 

The phone rang a third time, once again startling him. 

_The journal_, he thought and spun around, sliding his forefinger around the outside of the cover. Just what had Clark written between the leather boundaries? What was it that Clark wanted Lex to read, that the boy wanted to come true? 

The phone rang again. Lex picked it up. "Clark?" he asked, his voice no more than a whisper. 

"I'm afraid not," came a familiar collected voice. Lex's skin went cold with distance and disgust. 

"Dominick." 

"Indeed." The mutual sentiment of perfect antagonism was felt through the crisp, icy tone. "Your father, Alexander, has asked me to inform you of a slight problem with one of our businesses in Taiwan." 

Lex snorted. _Our businesses_, indeed. If Lionel overheard that specific terminology, little Saint 'Nick would be ousted immediately. 

"Business," Lex began. "What business would that be?" 

"A high-end electronics corporation." 

"What kind of problem are we talking about here?" 

"Well, they think that they're going to sell out to another company." 

Lex let his fingers trace the outlines of the pounded leather letters while he stared blankly at the wall in front of him, his mind slowly reacting, converting from personal to business. "And the owner of that company." 

"A Chinese man by the name of Hirigatomo Sukavi." 

"Tnama Ton-Su Industries." 

"Good guess." 

Lex resisted an urge to rolled his eyes just as he had whenever Dominick had voiced his pompous opinions all through prep school, when they had been on a somewhat civil basis. 

Dominick had always enjoyed an angle in which he felt higher, better, words that could bring him above the rest. 

"And what am I to do about this?" Lex said, taking Dominick's tone. Play my father's role until he comes back from taking care of the attempted mutiny." 

There was a moment of hesitation over the phone. "Actually he wants the _both_ of us to take care of it." 

Lex felt the ice in his stomach. 

"Together." 

What the fuck was Lionel up to now? 

+_+_+_+_+ 

There hadn't been too much cold. Of that he was certain. But it still felt, well, kind of chilly. Then there was heat. So much heat that his body vibrated, hummed with the inner fire. 

Chloe and Clark were on the top of Chloe's roof, ready to jump down in to the pool, but Pete… Pete was scared. They jumped, laughing and screaming, splashing about. But he climbed down the latter and just cannonballed their asses. He just wished he hadn't looked like just a puss in front of Chloe. 

Chloe 

Chloe 

He was in his bed, it was late, maybe two and he couldn't get to sleep. He kept remembering the day. He had been in the library with her, they had been studying, her beside him and they were giggling. He stroked himself as he remembered the smell of her long hair, the way it tickled his skin when she moved just the right way. He changed the day, altered history, making their friendship more. She kissed him, her hand on his knee moving upwards. She let him cop a feel, let him kiss the side of her neck and, oh, god, what he wouldn't give for her to be his girl. 

Girl 

Girl 

Lana was just a girl. Just a hottie with half a brain and, shit, man. He'd do anything to be Clark Kent, the all American farm boy that had unknowingly stolen the heart Pete wished was reserved for him. Instead he doted on cute but not too bright Lana Lang. He had a stupid, stupid, stupid best friend. 

Best friend. 

Best friend. 

Clark was once his best friend. He stood there staring as Clark got into the Lamborghini, the Countach, the honey-pot. Lex had come into his simple little world and fucked things up royally. Now Clark was ditching time with him and Chloe, even Lana and his family, for the rich and spoiled little Luthor boy, the last name that caused his family's financial problems. Stupid fucking Lex. 

Lex. 

Lex. 

That was all anything was about anymore. And he had kissed her, kissed her wonderful cherry-glossed lips in the light of the stage. Held her hand, wrapped his arm around her little waist. Had been thinking about how good and right it was going to be between the two of them. How perfect it was going to fit, his life now. Finally on track. Then Clark with his stupid poem and Chloe with her openly knowing looks. Did they not care that he was supposed to be a part of their gang? Did they just toss out the fact that he had trusted them with everything since forever? And how could Clark trust Chloe over him. She had lied to Clark, hidden things from him. And Pete was always honest. 

Honest. 

Honest. 

Love. 

Hate. 

Anger. 

Lex. 

Clark. 

Chloe. 

Pete. 

Pete. 

Pete. 

He opened his eyes. 

"Pete!" 

Chloe was standing there above him. 

"Pete, you were talking. You're awake." 

He shook his head, saddened at the sight of her, his body still humming with the heat. Heat he didn't understand. 

"What?" she asked, her treacherous eyes incredibly genuine. "You're awake!" 

He cleared his throat and it was dry, sore with what felt like years of neglect. "I wish I wasn't." 

The heat. What did it mean?   
****

The End of _Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga_   


**To be continued in** _Safe and Sound - An Ending Fit for a Fairytale?_


End file.
